The Reiney Family Wants to Have the Hard Talks About Suicide – Charlotte Magazine

Tennis was more than just a game for Mike Reiney and his younger brother Chuck. It was a lifelong bond. In February 2023, Chuck’s suicide at 53 broke that bond and left his family and friends shocked that a man who seemed to have everything—a successful and lucrative banking career, a loving family, a strong connection to his community—would choose to end his life. Mike realized that mental illness can affect anyone, no matter how happy they seem.

Chuck had lived in Charlotte since 2005, and Mike lived in Alabama. Seven months after Chuck died, Mike and his brother Joe, along with their friends and family, founded the nonprofit Ace the Stigma. The organization focuses on hosting events to raise funds, educate the public, and support people with mental illness.

At the organization’s inaugural tennis tournament, from May 3-5, more than 100 people took to the courts at Olde Providence Racquet Club, where Chuck had served as president. Ace the Stigma raised more than $190,000, which was donated to five local mental health organizations: Mission 34, Mental Health America of Central Carolinas (MHA), For Students, Alexander Youth Network, and HopeWay.

“The amount of support we saw from this event not only showed how much of an impact Chuck had on the tennis community,” Mike says, “but how many people have been impacted by mental illness.”

Mike’s words have been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up in Jacksonville, Florida, where I was the oldest of four siblings. Chuck and I were three years apart, and our mom had three babies in three years, so we were all very close growing up.

After high school, I went to the University of Alabama and liked it so much, I decided to stay. I’ve been in Huntsville, Alabama, for 35 years now, and my wife Emily, and I have three children.

I currently own a car wash business with 10 locations in northern Alabama and Mississippi. This is my third career—I’ve been doing it for about eight years. Along the way, I’ve learned to prioritize what’s important, and this business allows me to do that better.

Our family was competitive, with our parents playing tennis socially and us kids trying out multiple sports—baseball, basketball, swimming. Chuck and I mainly chose tennis. Chuck played from the time he could hold a racket.

We spent countless hours on the public tennis courts and loved being ball boys at local tournaments. When I was 8, our parents installed a tennis court in our backyard. We’d watch Wimbledon on TV, then run outside and pretend we were the pros. Even as we got older and moved to different states, tennis kept us connected.

Chuck went on to become the captain of his tennis team at Furman University. Then he found his fit at Olde Providence Racquet Club when he and his family moved to Charlotte. He was president of the club in 2020. Outside of family and work, tennis was his outlet. He enjoyed everything from playing in the Charlotte Pro League to casual matches with his friends.

Chuck really valued his family. He and his wife, Megan, celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary shortly before he passed away. He was devoted to his sons, Cooper, Charlie, and Nate, and often played in father-son national tennis tournaments with Charlie. And for 23 years, Chuck looked forward to our annual Reiney boys’ baseball trip. Chuck and I went with our brother, our dad, and our boys to a different city each year to see an MLB game. Those trips were really special. They just won’t be the same without him.

Chuck and Megan Reiney celebrate the graduation of their son Nate from Myers Park High School in 2021 with their sons Charlie (at far left) and Cooper. Courtesy, Reiney Family

Growing up, we never talked about our weaknesses, and I think that came from being tennis players. On the court, you’re playing alone—no coach, just you figuring out how to outthink and outplay your opponent. That mindset is hard to leave on the court. If we faced adversity in our lives, we just tried to push through it on our own. I’ve since learned that you can’t always do that in life. But Chuck ultimately couldn’t find a way to push through it anymore.

In the last few months of Chuck’s life, we talked about some of the challenges he was facing—many of which I was dealing with, too. But whether it was our age, being guys, or not wanting to show weakness, we didn’t dive too deeply into our feelings. Our family has always believed in coping and moving on, often saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’d tell Chuck, “Just hang in there. You’ll get through it and be better for it.” But I didn’t realize how much he was struggling.

There is no such thing as “perfect.” I remember one of my recent phone calls with Chuck. When I shared some challenges I was facing, he said, “Oh, wow, I didn’t know you were having problems.” I said, “C’mon, man, we all have our challenges.” People often talk about the good things in life but hesitate to be vulnerable about what’s really bothering them. Success doesn’t shield you from struggles—in fact, it can sometimes add to them.

We were all blindsided when Chuck passed. We were shocked and confused. He was always the smart one in the family, the one who seemed to have it all together. From the outside, it looked like he had the perfect life—no obvious signs of difficulty. He was the strongest, most optimistic person I knew, but he was battling something internally. You never really know what’s going on in someone’s mind unless you’re in their shoes. If it could happen to him, it could happen to anyone.

The day it happened, our lives came to a halt. We all felt like we were walking in quicksand, trying to process the loss while figuring out how to write an obituary, plan a memorial, and navigate this new reality. We ultimately chose to hold the memorial at Olde Providence Racquet Club. It just felt right.

At Chuck’s memorial, our family knew we wanted something positive to come from this tragedy and help prevent other families from experiencing the pain and confusion we were facing. We were unsure how many would attend the service at the club, but we were floored when 500 people showed up. That overwhelming support inspired us to organize a tournament in Chuck’s honor.

None of us really knew what resources were available to help people like Chuck. So I did some homework on Charlotte-based organizations and charities. I discovered several groups working with people from various backgrounds. These organizations are doing great work, but we realized they needed some help raising awareness about the services they offer.

More than 100 people took part in the tournament at Olde Providence Racquet Club (above), where Chuck Reiney had served as president. Courtesy, Richard Pockat

If I knew then what I know now about mental health, I might have recognized the signs and been more sensitive to them. I wish I had understood more and taken the time to sit down with my brother and dig a little deeper. But by sharing these resources, I hope we can help others do what we wish we could have done for Chuck.

As we were talking about a name for our organization, we reflected on the stigma surrounding mental health and suicide. My brother kept his struggles hidden, and after his death, our family felt overwhelming guilt for not recognizing the signs. Chuck must have felt trapped, believing there was no other way out. We wanted to focus on combating this stigma.

The “ace” in our name honors Chuck’s deep connection to tennis and the community that meant so much to him.

While it’s a difficult achievement to celebrate, our organization has seen remarkable success in its first year. Despite feeling exhausted and mentally drained, the effort has been worthwhile. Witnessing people uniting for the cause and seeing the impact we’re making has been humbling and inspiring.

Our mission extends beyond fundraising; it’s about fostering open conversations around mental health. At the tournament, at least 25 people shared that they had lost a family member to suicide. Many admitted, “We just don’t talk about it.” They were grateful for our efforts to break this silence and encourage open dialogue. It’s not a bond anyone wants, but for some of us, it’s a reality. We strive to ensure no one feels alone in their struggle.

What drives me is the desire to change the narrative around mental health and leave a legacy for future generations. There can be a lot of apprehension around mental wellness, but I think it should be just as important as getting your physical or going to the dentist. This organization isn’t about me or even Chuck; it’s about the cause. It’s about telling others that it’s OK to seek help and share your struggles.

Courtesy, Richard Pockat

When we started the organization, we knew we were opening the door to difficult conversations and unprocessed emotions. As we prepared to promote the tournament, the first thing I did was call Chuck’s wife. I said, “Are you okay with this being published?” She replied resolutely, “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? If we can help just one family not have to go through this, if we can save one life, we’ve done what we need to do.”

I think about Chuck every day and would give anything just to talk with him again. I know he’s watching over us, but if I could tell him one thing today, it would just be that I miss him. I miss his friendship.

Amanda Lea is a writer in Charlotte.