April 10th, 2026
By Jessica Kenley

PORT ALLEGANY, Pa. — What could have been only a space for grief on a gloomy, rainy Friday night became something more on a recent evening in Port Allegany—a place for connection, remembrance, and moments of joy, as community members gathered to honor the life of 12-year-old Wesley Welch and celebrate his birthday.

Wesley, who recently died by suicide, was remembered not just for the tragedy of his loss, but for the vibrancy of his life: a boy who loved skateboarding, music, and playing guitar. At the heart of the gathering was his father, Brandon Welch, who is determined that his son’s story will not end in silence.

Instead, it will spark conversation.

“This is about making sure Wesley is remembered for who he was,” Brandon said, speaking with a quiet steadiness that carried both grief and purpose. “And it’s about helping people understand mental illness—especially here, where people don’t always talk about it.”

The event brought together friends, neighbors, and strangers alike. One woman, who didn’t know Wesley personally, commented sadly, “I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child. We just wanted to be here to support them and the cause.”

Another woman sitting nearby said, “I only met Wesley maybe two times, but he was the kind of kid–he had an old soul…he was very soft-spoken and genuine.”

She went on to point out that just being a 12-year old is a very hard time for children. “Because they don’t quite know who they are yet.”

One teen, sharing her feelings, said that the loss was extremely traumatizing for her, and also for the children who knew and were friends with Wesley. 

“I saw girls crying so hard that they were throwing up,” she said, “One girl literally had to be picked up and carried away [at the funeral].”

For the children in this community, the loss of Wesley is profound.

There was food shared among folding tables, conversations that stretched easily between people who may not have known each other before, and a sense of warmth that felt intentional—almost defiant in the face of loss.

At one point, a teen picked up a guitar and began to play, a simple but powerful tribute that seemed to echo one of Wesley’s greatest loves. The music carried across the gathering space, soft but steady, as if stitching together the memories being shared.

It was, in many ways, exactly the kind of moment Brandon hopes to create more of.

“What can I say without crying?” said Keegan Simes, strumming his guitar. Simes remembered that Wesley had been so talented that the music teacher at Port Allegany High School let him join their music group a year early. Simes continued to strum his guitar while reflecting, teary-eyed.

“When I met Wesley is when I started playing guitar,” said Simes. “He was my inspiration.”

Sitting next to Simes was a smiling, friendly, supportive Akira Ayers.

In a phone call later, Akira divulged that she and Wesley had had a “crush on each other,” in the 5th grade, and had made bracelets for each other.

She wears hers every day.

“I would never believe that Wesley had to go through something like this…he was always smiling…[my friends and I] are heartbroken,” she said. She had met Wesley at a church class when they were a couple of years younger.

Another story Akira wanted to share was that, as a teasing joke, at the pool one day, Wesley tried to push Akira into the deep end. Her friends caught her before she fell in, but then they told Wesley that Akira was terrified of deep water and anywhere “I couldn’t touch,” because of a traumatizing near-drowning incident when she was young.

When Wesley realized what he had done, Akira said that he “couldn’t stop apologizing” in order to make it right.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Wesley asked Akira, “Can I kiss you?”

Akira was so surprised that she didn’t know how to respond, but says that, “We started our friendship, but we never got to finish it.”

Looking to the Future

In honoring Wesley, Brandon is also building something tangible for the future: plans are underway to construct a skate park in Port Allegany, funded in part by donations raised through events like this one. 

Skateboarding, one of Wesley’s passions, will become a lasting part of his legacy—a place where other kids can gather, express themselves, and feel a sense of belonging.

“Mental health is real, and it matters,” Brandon said. “If we can help even one kid feel seen or heard, then we’re doing something right.”

In rural communities, where conversations around mental health can still feel hushed or overlooked, efforts like these carry particular weight. The gathering was not just about remembrance—it was about breaking that silence, gently but firmly.

As the evening went on, laughter mingled with quiet reminiscence. People lingered. Stories were told. Connections were made.

And in those moments—in the twang of a guitar, in shared meals, in the simple act of showing up—Wesley’s presence felt close, not defined by how he died, but by how deeply he was loved.