‘Lochlain was a great kid,’ Anne Ryan says quietly. ‘He was very cherished by us… the whole family.’
‘Lochie brought a lot of joy to my life – like all four of my kids. He was adventurous. He was outgoing. He was a people person. Lochie loved me and he loved his family.’
She remembers that joy that came simply from being his mum – but now she also carries the painful memories of the recent years, leading up to the moment her youngest son took his own life in January 2025, aged 20.
His mental health struggles made it harder to be his parent, she says.
‘The last few years have been so tough.’
Lochlain had wanted to join the Navy for as long as Anne can remember.
‘Since he was tiny, he used to sit and watch Sea Patrol over and over again,’ she says. ‘It was his dream job.’
Anne remembers Lochie as a boy who always loved the ocean. Growing up on the Queensland coast, he would take the family boat out spear diving and fishing.
‘That was where he felt at home and at peace,’ she says.
When he sent her photos from on board Navy vessels, she remembers the incredible view – and how much those views meant to him too.
‘Just magic. He was living his best life.’
When things changed
Service has been part of the fabric of their family. Lochie’s father was a police officer. His older brother John Stevens was also in the ADF and has since discharged. Anne is a nurse.
‘We all serve the community in different aspects,’ she says. ‘And he wanted to contribute to that in his own way.’
In hindsight, she can see when things began to shift.
‘Probably after one of his operational experiences,’ she says. ‘The tone sort of shifted just very subtly. Nothing that you could really put your finger on.’
Lochie spoke about the boats they encountered on the job and the people on them.
‘The challenge of it, the fear that he had… there was the adrenaline of doing his job, but also that acknowledgement that it was a dangerous job as well.’
‘Quite a young lad too,’ she says. ‘He was a long way away from home and his support.’
Over time, she believes the pressure accumulated.
‘The Navy – the nature of that type of job, similarly with police, similarly with emergency nursing – the pressure and the adrenaline with those types of jobs can contribute to the battering of your resilience.’
There were periods where she says her son tried to pull himself back.
‘He put in some gallant efforts,’ she says. ‘He was into his fitness. He was doing a lot of things to try and regroup from that.’
But ‘over a period of time, it drained his resilience’. She says that the coroner later reflected that pattern in the report.
Alongside operational stress were personal struggles and stress about how Lochie’s mental health issues were impacting his ability to work the way he’d originally wanted to. He wasn’t going out to sea. Career progression stalled.
‘He felt it was up against him,’ Anne says. ‘When that’s the main thing – your job – and you’re finding struggles there too, where do you go for respite from that?’
Although he was open enough about his feelings to speak with his older brother John about the pressures of the job and about his mental health – ‘particularly around Lochlain’s suicidal ideation’ – Anne says the support and love he had around him from his family and friends still couldn’t beat the battle going on in his own mind.
What Anne carries now is something that sits heavily with her.
‘He couldn’t see how much he was loved,’ she says. ‘He couldn’t see how much support he actually had.’
After working years as an emergency nurse, Anne has had time to understand the impact of trauma. From the day she found out the news that her son had died, that impact on her own life saw her step away from that role immediately.
‘I couldn’t go back,’ she says. ‘I just couldn’t.’
Walking without him
For the four years before his death, Anne and Lochie had taken part in Soldier On’s March On challenge together. It was something they did side by side – 96 kilometres across March to raise funds and awareness for veteran mental health.
Last March was the first time she walked the challenge without him.
‘I was going to do it on my own,’ she says, about her commitment to honour Lochie’s memory in the time so soon after his passing.
Instead, more than 30 friends joined her.
This year, she has set herself the goal of walking 300 kilometres.
‘March On has become how I turn my grief into hope,’ she says. ‘If even one life is saved, then I’ve done something good.’
Get involved
March On is free and open to everyone. Walk or run 96 kilometres or more across March and help support veterans and their families. You can also support registered teams, or individuals like Anne Ryan by visiting the March On leader board.
If you need immediate or crisis support:
• Open Arms – 1800 011 046
• Lifeline – 13 11 14
• 1800-RESPECT
