355 days ago, my life changed forever. The world tragically lost a remarkable person. That person was my best friend, my biggest supporter, but above all, my brother. Anyone who knew Zac knows who the world lost that day—an engaging, gregarious, and charismatic guy. A guy who found the stranger in the room at a party and made him is best pal before the night ended.

Zac was a lot of things—a proud son, a loyal friend, a talented athlete, a gifted student, a bright consultant, a faithful Catholic, a devoted sports fan—but above all, his starring role on this earth was as a brother. Zac’s life constantly revolved around being there for my family and for me. He was always the first one to celebrate our accomplishments, and even stayed until he was the last one in the stadium cheering us on.

As a brother, Zac was my biggest supporter. Zac was the person I would call when I needed someone. He would congratulate me on the good and help me through the bad. He always knew what I needed to hear, and he was the voice that spoke it. He was the guy that was always there to help, whether it was encouraging my wild ideas or helping me through the tough times. He was also the guy that was able to keep my head on straight, which, believe it or not, is a daunting task. But what Zac did more than anything was listen. He was the guy I called when I wanted to feel better. He is still the guy I call when I want to feel better…that won’t change. But the void of his voice to do all the things he did while he was alive is the struggle that I live with every day.

Through my grief, I forgot that it was okay to “not be okay.” I thought I was in this world alone. I thought no one would ever understand the pain I was going though. I began to feel sorry for myself. I thought that I was too tough, too masculine, too strong to seek additional help. I needed to be strong for my family. So instead of asking for more help, I internalized my grief about Zac. I pushed people away. I didn’t just lose my brother. I lost myself. A few months ago, I finally sought help, breaking my own opinion that men should keep to themselves in grief and “deal with it”. And now as I reflect on my own mental health journey and my relationship with Zac, the conversations we had and the bond we cherished, I realize that real men aren’t afraid to share their feelings with others—whether those feelings are about insecurities, anxieties, anger, grief—it’s important to get them out, to feel your emotions so they don’t manifest into damaging behavior, and to ask others for help when you’re feeling lost.

I started to reclaim my happiness after finally talking to someone about losing my brother. And now I’m wondering: what took me so long? Was it worth trying to “suck it up” for so long? So that’s why I’m sharing my story. To remind others out there that you are not alone. Do not be afraid to seek help. It will do just that—help. I strengthened myself by breaking the stigma that getting help from someone outside of my friends and family was a “bad thing.” It’s not. This is where I’m at currently—working to better myself with Zac still by my side. Some days are better than others. Some days I slip up and feel myself heading toward that dark place, but it’s those days when I’m struggling that I am grateful for the strength I have developed along my journey. 

Telling people this is important because I know now that I’m not alone, and I want others who have lost someone impactful in their life to know that they’re not alone in their struggles either. That’s why the Zac Plantz Foundation is hosting our Zacamo Bowl fundraiser during the month of November (men’s health awareness month). To raise funds and awareness in efforts to help even just ONE individual out there. To make an impact on someone’s life, just as Zac did for me and for so many others. It’s what he wants us to do. To help others grow physically, mentally, and spiritually—these are the pillars of the Zac Plantz Foundation, and our mission is to continue Zac’s legacy and make him the proud brother he always was. 

Last year, we couldn’t celebrate Thanksgiving as a family. It was a day of tragedy, but we hope we can celebrate Thanksgiving Saturday this year as a family with the community that gave us the support to get to where we all are today.

Our Zacamo Bowl is a celebration. It is a fundraiser that WILL change someone’s life. It is a fundraiser that WILL offer support to young people who are in the same place I was when I lost my role model. It is a fundraiser that WILL provide young people with the opportunity to do good in this world.

Please find it in your heart to give to this cause—the Zacamo Bowl. Any bit will go a long way. We love you Zac.

Please donate to my team, Team “Brotre Dame”, to make sure I kick my brother Tyler Plantz team’s ass!!!!