Want to save lives? Start a conversation about mental health with your friends and family and donate to AFSP. This is a topic that is close to home for me. I lost my younger brother to suicide 15 years ago when he was a 26-year-old student in NYU Stern's MBA program. This year I am running the Boston Marathon in his memory on Mon, April 17, 2017 (Patriot's Day).

The truth is that we are all at risk of one day developing a psychological disorder.

Every year, nearly one in five Americans -- about 42.5 million American adults -- suffers from mental illness, including conditions such as depression, bipolar disorder or schizophrenia, according to 2014 statistics from the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA). The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that nearly 50 percent of U.S. adults will develop at least one mental illness during their lifetime.

What's more, 41,149 Americans committed suicide in 2013, and the rate of suicide has not decreased over the past two decades. The highest risk group are white males over 60. Their suicide rate is well over twice that of the population as a whole. Suicide is the second largest cause of death in people ages 15-34. My brother was 26 when he died.

On April 10, 2002, nine days after what would have been my brother's 27th birthday, I spoke to his business school classmates at NYU Stern Business School and told some other stories that are recounted below:

It's strange to be here speaking at Stern Business School -- a place where my brother Jimmy was so excited to be attending business school with all of you.

I remember in the fall of 2000 when Jimmy decided he wanted to apply to graduate schools to pursue his MBA. Some of our family members and friends didn't understand why he wanted to get into an expensive MBA program -- Jimmy already had such a great job in New York that paid well -- why, they asked, did he need more school?

But my brother was passionate about business and banking and the stock market and he wanted to go as far as he possibly could with his education and his career.

I knew he was serious when I received an email from Jimmy with application essays for several prestigious MBA programs. He asked if I would proofread and edit them. My favorite essay -- answering the question of why he wanted to attend business school -- talked about how when he was a little boy his favorite game was Monopoly and he always loved to be the banker. It was interesting to read his take on how his early passion for the business rules of this board game our family used to play together influenced his education goals and career ambitions 20 years later.

Jimmy won almost every game of Monopoly we ever played together. He was great at "wheeling and dealing," as our grandmother would say, and he eventually started bringing his negotiation skills from the game into real life situations.

One winter when he was 6 and I was 7, there was a huge snow storm that deposited about 2 feet of snow. Jimmy and I spent an entire day outside building an incredible snow mansion in in our grandparents front yard. It had separate rooms and furniture you could sit down on. 

The next day while playing on our gigantic snow house, Jimmy and I had an argument about which one of us the mansion belonged to. Jimmy went inside our grandparents' house and got some paper and drew up a deed for the snow fort modeled after a deed for Monopoly property. He offered to sell me his half of the snow fort for $1, my allowance money.

I thought I was getting a great deal, and the sale was made. I was the new 100% owner of this incredible snow fort. A day or two later warmer weather came and turned my deeded snow mansion into a slush pile, and Jimmy was chomping on a candy bar he bought with my allowance money...

(THIS IS PART OF THE EULOGY I READ AT JIMMY'S FUNERAL on March 7, 2002 when I was 28 years old in Southboro, Massachussetts, the town where we grew up. At the wake the night before we met more than 600 of his high school, college, graduate school, and work friends. He committed suicide in New York City on March 2. He was just about to turn 27.)

Over the past few days so many of you have shared stories with me about my brother Jimmy. I have been grateful to hear them all and will be interested in listening to many more. I would like to share a few of my favorite things about my brother with you.

It's obvious that I don't need to tell any of you that my brother was extremely bright, charming, ambitious, and great at having so much fun -- your stories and his many academic and social achievements speak for themselves.

But one of my favorite qualities that my brother had, may not have always been obvious to everyone -- Jimmy was extremely sensitive.

When we were little kids -- maybe I was 3 and Jimmy was 2 --my mom gave me a Raggedy Ann doll that she had sewed for me. I was a strange little girl and I hated dolls, so I threw it on the floor and pouted. Jimmy, who was 2-years-old, picked up the doll and hugged it and called it "Bay-bee."

Over the next few years, he carried that doll everywhere with him by its arm or its red yarn hair. He carried that doll until the features on its face wore off and one of its arms fell off and eventually it only had 3 or 4 strands of yarn hair left. Jimmy was constantly hugging that doll. My mom had to wait until Jimmy fell asleep at night to pry the doll from his hands to wash it or mend it.

Anyone who has ever known us when we lived in our mom's old house on Framingham Road in Southboro has probably wondered why Jimmy ended up with the bedroom the size of a walk-in closet, while I had such a huge room. Jimmy actually chose that room himself. When we moved into that house, I was in 2nd grade and Jimmy was in 1st. We probably would've flipped a coin to decide which kid got which room, but my brother demanded, "I want the room closest to mom's!" So he got the tiny room near my mother's.

When Jimmy was 6 he had lots of warts on his hands. My mom had to take him to Southboro Medical pediatrics office to get them removed. The procedure was pretty gruesome -- the doctors apparently scraped Jimmy's hands with razor blades and then burned the warts with acid. I'll never forget how much Jimmy cried afterward. He was afraid of the doctor's office after that. When he needed to go back for a second treatment, I think my mom had to trick him to get him back to the doctor's office.

In the waiting room, my mom read a magazine and my brother and I sat on the floor. Jimmy begged me to hide him or help him escape. As anyone who's ever been to that office as a kid knows, there were tons of toys in that waiting room. There was a fairly large wooden box that was the home for a big wooden toy soldier (kind of like a nutcracker type of thing). I opened the top of the box and asked Jimmy if he could squeeze in there. He climbed in and somehow jammed himself inside. I closed the lid and continued to play quietly by myself.

When the nurse finally announced Jimmy's name, my mom looked up from her magazine. She didn't see Jimmy anywhere in the room. "Where did your brother go?" she asked me. I pretended I didn't know where he was. My mom ran out to the hallway and looked around, but she couldn't find him anywhere. She began to panic. At this point, I went through my first moral dilemma -- is it OK to lie to my mom to protect my little brother? After a few minutes of keeping my secret, I realized I needed to tell my mom where Jimmy was before she called the Southboro police.

I pointed to the wooden box. We lifted the top and Jimmy climbed out. My mom was so happy to see him, and I think Jimmy was so happy to be out of the cramped box that he forgot to be sad about seeing the doctor.

My favorite thing that my brother ever did was in 1996 when he stayed in the hospital with my nana when she was dying of cancer. My nana (who helped raise us as kids) was on her deathbed and in-and-out of consciousness. I hadn't made it back home from college yet. After visiting hours ended, my brother insisted that he and my mom stay in my nana's room with her and sleep there overnight. He wouldn't leave her side until she died. I am so thankful for that because I couldn't be there and that is exactly what I would have wanted to do.

I love Jimmy and will miss him for my whole life. In recent years I've been a happier person than ever before and I definitely enjoy my life more. I think it is because in some ways I have been inspired by my brother. That is the one thing we can all take away from this -- enjoy life, enjoy your friends, follow your dreams, and don't stop following them.

My brother's 27th birthday was coming up next month. My mom had already spent over an hour in CVS trying to pick out just the right card for him. Both of my parents would want to tell you how much they love my brother too, but it is too painful for them to get up and speak right now. I think the words on the card that my mom picked out for my brother say what my parents would like to express. It says:

For my son

If I could gather up all the smiles, laughs, memories, and pride that you've brought me through the years and give them back to you, I would. 
Maybe that way you'd understand just what it means to have a son like you.
And why you're one of the most important things in the world to me.
No one could ever love a son and believe in him more deeply than I love and believe in you.

We love you, Jimmy.