The mission of the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™ nonprofit is to create a safe and supportive space for open conversations about mental health while actively working to break the stigma surrounding suicide. Our goal is to foster empathy, understanding, and connection within communities across the United States.
Through our mobile memorial wall, social media platforms, and outreach efforts, we provide resources, guidance, and a safe haven for individuals and families impacted by mental health challenges and loss. We are dedicated to promoting awareness, prevention, and advocacy by amplifying voices, sharing stories, and offering hope.
Our commitment is to equip individuals with the tools, education, and compassion needed to navigate their mental health journey while building a network of support and solidarity to prevent suicide and champion mental wellness. Together, we can create a future of understanding, healing, and hope.
Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House Non Profit Facebook Group
Donate to Our Mission with Cash App
Donate to Our Mission using Venmo
Suicide Awareness Bus Memorial Page – If you haven’t been able to make it to the bus yet, but would like to post something of a loved one lost, please visit our memorial page.
News stories:
In the world of suicide awareness, there are countless organizations, movements, and advocates working to shed light on the complexities of mental health, suicide prevention, and support for those grieving the loss of loved ones. Among these, the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™ Initiative stands out as something uniquely different. This initiative isn’t just about advocacy—it’s about creating a living, mobile testament to those we’ve lost and to those who still need hope.
Here are a few things that set the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™ Initiative apart from other suicide awareness efforts:
1. A Mobile Memorial: A Living Tribute
One of the most distinct features of our initiative is the physical, mobile nature of our mission. The Suicide Awareness Bus serves as a rolling memorial, carrying the stories and memories of loved ones lost to suicide. Wherever it goes, it not only raises awareness but also provides a tangible, heartfelt tribute that allows people from different communities to connect with those who’ve been affected by suicide.
The Spirit House™, which travels with us, becomes a sacred space for reflection, healing, and remembrance. Together, they create a mobile sanctuary for anyone who needs a place to grieve, process, or feel the presence of their loved ones in a meaningful way.
2. We Bring the Message to the People
Most advocacy is centered around virtual platforms, events, or campaigns that require individuals to come to a specific place or moment. What makes our initiative different is that we go to where people are. We travel to towns, cities, and communities, ensuring that our message isn’t just heard online but seen, felt, and experienced in person.
When the bus pulls up into a community, it’s an invitation for people to see firsthand the reality of suicide’s impact, to engage in conversation, and to break the stigma in a tangible, physical way. The personal connection we create with each stop on our journey fosters a deeper, more lasting bond than many traditional advocacy efforts.
3. A Safe Space to Offload the Heaviness of Life
Our initiative doesn’t just advocate for awareness—it provides an active, open space where people can come to unload the weight of their struggles. We understand that life can be dark and heavy, and sometimes all it takes is the right environment for someone to feel safe enough to share their pain. Whether it’s sitting inside the Spirit House, speaking with others who understand, or simply reflecting on the memorial wall of names and memories, we offer a space that truly holds people during their darkest hours.
We pride ourselves on being more than a movement—we are a community on wheels. A safe place, free of judgment, where anyone can come to talk, to cry, to process, or just to be.
4. Real People, Real Stories
Our work is personal. Unlike many organizations where professional distance is maintained, the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™ Initiative is run by people who have walked the path of loss, addiction, and mental health struggles. We are not professionals in the field, but rather, we are individuals who understand what it feels like to face these battles alone.
As a suicide survivor myself and having faced the deep pain of addiction and mental health struggles, I know firsthand the isolation that many experience. My partner Cory and I aren’t therapists—we’re simply two people who care deeply, and who have committed to turning our pain into purpose. This makes us approachable, relatable, and genuinely invested in the people we meet on this journey.
5. A Holistic Approach: Mind, Body, and Spirit
Unlike other advocacy programs that may focus solely on mental health, our initiative takes a holistic approach. We recognize the connection between mind, body, and spirit, and we incorporate these elements into our work. The Spirit House™ becomes a place for spiritual healing, while the Suicide Awareness Bus represents the journey—acknowledging the physical, emotional, and spiritual journey of those affected by suicide.
We offer more than awareness—we offer a path toward healing through community, conversation, and reflection.
6. A Focus on Community and Empowerment
One of the pillars of the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™ Initiative is our emphasis on community support. We don’t just raise awareness—we build connections within communities. We encourage people to lean on one another, to form networks of support, and to break the isolation that often accompanies mental health struggles.
Our mission empowers individuals to speak their truth, to share their stories, and to advocate for their own healing journey. Through collective efforts, we foster a sense of belonging that can help turn pain into power.
7. Sustainability and Commitment to the Cause
Our initiative isn’t a short-term campaign. We are committed to the long haul—ensuring that the bus keeps rolling, the memorial grows, and the message continues. We rely on the kindness and donations from those who believe in our mission to fuel this journey—both literally and figuratively. The funds we receive help with everything from fuel and maintenance for the bus to outreach efforts like blankets, hygiene products, and harm reduction tools.
We are not funded by major grants or corporate sponsors; our mission is fueled by the generosity of the people and the communities we serve.
8. Breaking the Stigma Through Real-Life Connections
By bringing the stories of loss and hope to communities far and wide, we challenge the stigma surrounding suicide and mental health. Our initiative is about connection, and connection is the key to breaking down misconceptions, myths, and the shame often associated with mental health struggles. Seeing the faces, names, and stories displayed on the bus reminds people that those lost to suicide were real, loved, and cherished.
This personal touch helps to humanize the conversation, moving it away from statistics and clinical terms and grounding it in real-life experiences.
Conclusion: A Movement of Healing
The Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™ Initiative isn’t just another advocacy group—it’s a movement rooted in healing, connection, and community. By combining awareness with action, we provide a space for both reflection and forward movement. We honor those who have been lost while creating opportunities for others to seek help, find solace, and connect with those who truly understand.
Our initiative is not just about preventing suicide—it’s about giving people hope, empowering them to keep going, and ensuring that no one has to walk this journey alone.
Worrying… is just a waste of imagination.
Every time we let fear write our thoughts, we rob ourselves of the beauty in what could be. Never is not that far away. Dreams—no matter how impossible they seem—can bloom into reality when we align our thoughts, our syllables, and our actions with intention.
We’re not professionals. We don’t have the degrees. But still—people who do look up to our work. They see the impact. They see the truth.
We’re not superheroes. Yet somehow, our days are filled with fairy-tale moments—tiny miracles, synchronicities, and signs from the universe that remind us we’re on the right path.
We are not gurus. But from time to time, we say a few syllables that might just help someone breathe a little easier, stay a little longer, or believe again.
We’re just real people who’ve been through real struggles. We’ve both known what it feels like to not want to be here. And from that darkness, we chose to create something that screams live.
We’ve built a mobile memorial—this mythical, raw, poetic space. A rolling museum made of glitter, glue, ashes, and memory. A place where grief and hope coexist.
It is, in truth, the most beautiful sad thing anyone could encounter. And not just encounter—but witness, see, feel, and touch.
This mission isn’t just art. It’s not just advocacy. It’s humanity on wheels. It’s healing in motion.
And it all began with a dream we could’ve worried away. But we didn’t. We chose faith. We chose action. And we’re asking you to believe in it too.
With love,
From two humans just trying to make this world a little softer —Cory & Kelly
Sometimes the hardest thing in life is to pause—to truly enjoy the time we have, to appreciate the small, beautiful things all around us: a quiet breeze, the warmth of a sunrise, a photograph capturing a moment that will never come again.
Because our memories… they will always be worth more than the monetary things that surround us.
Too often, we find ourselves stuck in the past, haunted by pain or regret, instead of taking that pain and turning it into purpose—into a tool that helps us shape the future we still have.
Broken crayons still color.
And the same can be said for all of us—each one of us on this journey called life. No matter how cracked, bent, bruised, or weary we feel… we still have value, still have something to offer, and still have a story worth telling.
This world can be heavy.
And our mission—The Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™—can be just as heavy. But Kelly and I have been gifted the ability to carry that weight. And we don’t carry it alone—we carry it with the spirits of those who are no longer here, and for the people we meet on this road who still are.
We are blessed to live a life we love.
A life where we help lift others up through grief and healing.
A life that takes us to new places, introduces us to new faces, and keeps our purpose rooted in love and service.
This mission helps us every day, just as we pray it helps you—whether you meet us on the street, find your loved one’s name on our wall, or simply follow our journey from afar.
We have a dream.
A dream to save lives, to help people process grief across this country.
And to do it while living boldly , and staying deeply connected to the beauty of Mother Nature and the human heart.
Thank you.
Thank you for believing in this dream, this display, this movement.
Thank you for allowing us to build something that is louder than words—something that rolls across America with boots on the ground, touching lives where it’s needed most.
With love, compassion, and everything real,
—Cory & Kelly
Hello everyone, wherever you are — thank you for being here, for caring, and for following our journey.
What we’ve created with this mission isn’t typical — and neither are we. We don’t fit into a polished box. We’re not professionals in suits. We’re not licensed therapists. We are real people with real experiences, and maybe that’s exactly why this works.
Because grief doesn’t follow rules.
Mental health doesn’t clock in and out.
And healing? It’s messy. It’s sacred. It’s human.
Over the past four and a half years, we’ve taken this mission on the road, transforming our pain into something that serves others — something that moves, literally. This is the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House ~ Nonprofit , and if you ask some folks, they’ll tell you it’s the “Where’s Waldo of suicide awareness.” Because you never know where we’re going to show up next.
Sometimes it’s a Walmart parking lot. Sometimes a truck stop. A town square. A small business. A side road in a quiet town. We go where we’re called — where spirit leads us. Not because we’re lost, but because someone out there is waiting to be found.
We carry ashes.
We carry obituaries, signatures, stories, and sacred items from loved ones lost to suicide.
We offer space — tangible, honest, raw space — for grieving, remembering, and surviving.
This isn’t something you can scroll past and fully understand.
It’s bigger than any post, louder than any speech.
It’s something you need to see. To stand in front of.
To touch. To feel.
Because this is the only mobile graveyard in the world.
And it exists not to glorify death — but to shout one message: please, stay; LIVE
We’ll never fully know how many lives we’ve impacted — but we know we’ve met thousands. We’ve cried with mothers. We’ve laughed with survivors. We’ve held space for stories that cracked us open and reminded us why we keep going.
And if you haven’t seen us yet in your city or town — just be patient.
Keep watching. Keep believing.
One day you’ll look up, and like something out of a dream, we’ll be there —
The bus. The memorial. The message.
And you’ll feel what we’ve always hoped you would:
That this life, even in all its darkness, still holds meaning.
That you’re not alone.
And that hope is real.
Thank you for trusting us with your loved ones’ names, ashes, and stories.
Thank you for keeping this vision alive.
And thank you for helping us continue creating something that is louder than words — boots on the ground, out in the streets, where it matters most.
With all our love,
Cory & Kelly
Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t come with a map or an expiration date. But for many of us, it does show up in stages. Messy, overlapping, back-and-forth stages. And even though they can’t define our entire experience, understanding them can help us feel a little less lost in the fog.
Here are the 5 stages of grief — not as a checklist, but as a language to describe what many of us are already feeling:
1. Denial – “This can’t be happening.”
That moment where time stands still. You’re functioning on autopilot, your body moving but your heart stuck in disbelief. It’s your mind’s way of protecting you from a pain too heavy to bear all at once.
2. Anger – “Why did this happen?”
This is the fire. It’s the part that wants to blame the world, others, or yourself. Sometimes the anger feels safer than the heartbreak underneath. And that’s okay — it’s part of the process.
3. Bargaining – “If only I had…”
Here come the what-ifs. The late-night mental spirals. The desperate need to rewind and rewrite the ending. Guilt often lives here too. But let me say this clearly: You are not to blame.
4. Depression – “What’s the point anymore?”
This is the heaviest stage for many. The one that settles in when the shock fades and reality starts to feel permanent. It’s quiet. It’s isolating. And if you’re here right now, please know: You are not alone. Grief is love with nowhere to go — and it’s okay to feel lost in it sometimes.
5. Acceptance – “It hurts… but I’m learning to live with it.”
This doesn’t mean the pain is gone. It means you’re finding ways to carry it differently. Maybe you’re learning to smile again. Maybe you’re finding purpose in their memory. Maybe, some days, you even laugh without guilt.
I’ve danced through all of these stages — sometimes in a single week. I’ve revisited them years later when I thought I had “moved on.” The truth is: grief never really ends. But it does evolve. And so do we.
But here’s something we don’t talk about enough: emotional walls.
When loss comes crashing into our lives, many of us build emotional walls just to make it through the day. We say “I’m fine” when we’re not. We distance ourselves to avoid being vulnerable. We shut down instead of letting people in — not because we don’t want help, but because it feels safer to hurt alone.
These walls may protect us from pain temporarily…
But they also keep love, healing, and connection out.
And over time, those walls can turn into cages — isolating us with our grief and convincing us we have to carry it alone.
So if you’ve been building walls around your heart to survive, please know this:
You don’t have to protect your pain by silencing it.
You don’t have to hide your grief to be strong.
And you are not a burden for feeling this deeply.
Let your pain speak. Let others show up. Let healing find you.
If you’re grieving right now, I want you to remember: There’s no “right” way to do this.
You are not broken.
You don’t have to rush your healing.
And even in your darkest hours — you are not alone.
Let’s be gentle with ourselves and with each other.
We’re all just trying to find our way forward, one breath, one memory, one unspoken ache at a time.
And if you feel like you can’t break down your walls just yet — that’s okay too. We’ll be here on the other side, ready when you are 
I’ve had seasons where life felt so good I wished I could freeze time—where laughter came easy, love surrounded me, and things just felt right. And I’ve also had days where it felt like I was barely holding on, wondering if things would ever get better.
What I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) is this: nothing lasts forever. Not the good, and not the bad.
So when life is good—take it in. Don’t rush through it. Let yourself feel it. Celebrate the little moments and soak up every ounce of joy. You deserve that.
And when life feels like a mess—please don’t give up. The heavy seasons do pass, even if they take their time. Just because today hurts doesn’t mean tomorrow will too. You won’t always feel like this.
Wherever you’re at right now, I want you to know: you’re not alone. So many of us are fighting battles we don’t talk about. But the fact that you’re still here, still trying—that says something powerful.
You’re stronger than you think. Better days are coming. One breath, one step at a time.
Somewhere along the way, we were taught that being vulnerable meant being weak—that showing emotion, asking for help, or saying “I’m not okay” made us soft, broken, or dramatic.
But let’s get real for a second…
Vulnerability is one of the hardest things a person can do.
It means facing the pain instead of stuffing it down.
It means speaking your truth, even when your voice shakes.
It means letting someone see the parts of you that aren’t polished, perfect, or easy to explain.
And you know what that takes?
Courage.
More courage than most people realize.
It’s not weak to cry.
It’s not weak to say “I’m struggling.”
It’s not weak to open up about the trauma, the depression, the addiction, the grief, the anxiety, the fear.
It’s powerful.
Because when we let our guard down, we make room for connection.
We give others permission to take off their masks too.
We start healing—not just ourselves, but each other.
I’ve seen people share their stories in this group and in our travels that would make you stop in your tracks. Stories that are raw, heartbreaking, and so real. And every single time—without fail—those stories have created space for someone else to say:
“Me too.”
“I thought I was alone.”
“You helped me feel seen.”
So if you’re reading this and you’ve been taught to hide your pain, to suck it up, to “just be strong”… I want you to know: you already are.
Your willingness to be honest about your emotions is not a flaw. It’s your superpower.
Vulnerability isn’t weakness. It’s truth.
And truth is how we heal.
Today, our hearts are full as we stand before the newest tribute on our memorial wall—a powerful reminder of the lives we honor, the memories we carry, and the love that never fades. This latest addition is more than a name or a photo—it’s a story, a legacy, and a piece of someone’s soul that now lives on in our mobile museum.
To the family who courageously entrusted us with your loved one’s tribute: thank you for allowing us to be part of this sacred moment. Your vulnerability, your tears, and your love are woven into every heartfelt signature and every memorial token placed here.
To every survivor who added their name alongside this tribute—you are the semicolons in your stories. You are the living testament that grief does not have the final word. Your courage marks a path of healing, reminding everyone that their story matters and that moving forward is still possible.
This memorial wall is a living, breathing tapestry of grief, love, and resilience. Every tribute etched here helps others feel seen, heard, and understood. This is what our nonprofit—the Suicide Awareness Bus & Spirit House™—is all about: creating a tangible space for mourning, connection, and hope.
If your loved one isn’t yet represented—please know there’s room for their story here. You’re welcome to send us a photo, an obituary, ashes, or a memento—whatever helps you feel connected to them in this shared space of remembrance.
We’ll continue to be out on the road, carrying these memories across the country. Know that each tribute is deeply honored, and each name brought peace to another soul—maybe just for one night.
With love, compassion, and unwavering commitment to healing,
Cory & Kelly
