Above: A fundraiser for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is in honor of a late resident who died too young. (images left contributed)
A former resident asked to reach out to our community about a fundraiser for Suicide Prevention in the memory of Southborough’s Connor Costello, who died last fall.
Here is his letter:
Hey Neighbors,
My name is Dan Butka. I grew up in Southborough, graduated from Algonquin, and served a term as your representative on the Assabet School Committee after running for office in 2020. Since leaving Southborough, I completed my undergraduate studies at Providence College, received my master’s from Brown University, and have settled in Watertown. I’m returning now to ask for your support.
My best friend took his own life on November 8th. He was like a brother to me, and the section of his obituary that reads “Beyond his family, Connor leaves a loving group of friends with whom he spent some of his happiest days, whose lives he improved immeasurably, and who will always think of him as a brother. They will honor Connor’s memory by continuing his legacy of joy, a fierce sense of loyalty, and an insatiable pursuit of their dreams” offers some insight into how his friends viewed him. Given his career as a professional basketball player and his love for surfing, there’s no better way to honor Connor Costello than a day of pickup basketball by the beach with everyone he loved while we raise money for a good cause. A group of Connor’s friends and former teammates are gathering with his family for the Tell the Homies You Love Them Invitational.
How can you help? Add to our donation in Connor’s name to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Donations can be sent via Venmo to @Dan-Butka. Suicide is the 11th leading cause of death in the United States, and the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention is doing the work to spread awareness and reduce those numbers. Let’s raise some money to stop someone else from losing a brother too soon.
For those that weren’t lucky enough to know Connor or the Costellos during their time in Southborough, I’ve pasted below the reflection that I wrote to his family on the night that I learned that he had passed, which we eventually shared to social media as a way to spread the word that he was gone.
Growing up, Connor was gravity. It was impossible not to be pulled towards the handsome basketball star, and everyone loved him. If you saw Connor, you would inevitably see me trailing a few steps behind. By preschool, we took to calling ourselves the “bash brothers”, which fortunately we grew out of, but the “brothers” label stuck. From sleepovers with Ryan in the Cape Cod dollhouse, to pool days on Hubley Lane, to homecooked Mexican dinners in your kitchen, to the countless hours in our driveways shooting hoops, there are few memories from my childhood that don’t involve you. It felt like everything came easy to Connor, but his innate loyalty to me meant that I got to share in some of his shine. By middle school, we became obsessed with Entourage on HBO, and I began joking that I was the Turtle to his Vince. Whether it was a party invite or a pickup game, I was always his first pick which meant more to me than I ever vocalized.
By the time he transitioned to private high school, I had come into my own, and there was no one happier for me than Connor. He quickly met Mason and that meant that we added another brother. It would have been easy for different schools to separate childhood friends, but we didn’t miss a beat. We brought each other to events to meet each other’s new friends, he spent hours drilling me on new skills to make sure that I always made the team, and we continued our longstanding tradition of using a 1×1 game to have deep talks where we discussed things that we would never say to anyone else. When I struggled late in college, he would bring me to Salve Regina or invite me over for dinner, and I would immediately feel better. We knew each other well enough where one look was enough to let the other know that it was time to go, and I can’t imagine that I’ll ever have that with anyone else – there was nowhere in the world where I felt more seen that I did around Connor and his family. Rob and Kim have called me a son for as long as I can remember, and they, Ryan, Bernadette, Tim, and Mason will always be family.
Our roles shifted in adulthood where I became the one giving advice, which was almost always ignored because Connor was as stubborn as he was fearless, but I never told him that I still envied him for his refusal to give in to what he was “supposed to do”. I took the safe path by pursuing a business career, while he committed to chasing his dream by moving overseas to play basketball full-time. Again, we didn’t let distance come between us. We developed a new routine where I would get an unexpected call that he was back in the U.S from Europe, and we would quickly make plans to head to a park and catch up over a game. He would swell with pride when I told him about promotions or getting into grad school, and I would brag to anyone who would listen that my best friend had beaten the odds and become a pro basketball player. We laughed, we cried, and we always said “I love you bro” as we hugged goodbye.
My friendship with Connor defined my life in so many ways, and it’s impossible to fathom him not being around for the stages I have left. I wish he had fucking called me, and I know that this is the one choice that I’ll never understand, but I take solace in believing that he’s in a more peaceful place somewhere belly laughing and catching alley-oops to show off to strangers.
You were, and will always be, my brother. My promise is to stay close with your family and try to give the love to others that you always gave to me. Rest easy – I love you bro.
I hope that you’ll donate, but I also hope that this will remind you to tell your friends that you love them. If you’re reading this and struggling, please ask for help. Please. You matter, and you are loved.
Dan Butka
