Overdose Awareness Day is August 31. In honor of this painful but important day, we're sharing stories from Shatterproof community members who've experienced overdose firsthand.

On a sweltering August day in 2016, my mother and I had to hire a locksmith to break into my brother's house.

We had been unable to reach my brother Brett for days. We had called and sent texts. We had been to the house several times, knocking on the doors and yelling his name to no avail. We thought that something was wrong, but we had felt this before, only to find out that Brett had just been ignoring us. After you have overreacted, you're hesitant to trust your gut.

I will forever be thankful that our priest, Father Steve, was with us, and that he insisted on entering the house before us. He went ahead in, and my mother and I waited in the horrible, thick heat for what seemed like an eternity for Father Steve to come back. When he did, we could tell by his face that Brett was gone.

Grief swept over us, that grief that knocks you to your knees. What we feared for years was a reality. Brett was dead on the bathroom floor from an opiate overdose.

Father Steve suggested that we wait in the living room for the police and the funeral home to arrive. But, we just had to see him. We entered the bathroom and touched his skinny legs and told him that we loved him. The vision of my beautiful big brother, my first friend, lying on the bathroom floor where he had died days before, alone and broken by a terrible disease, will forever haunt me. Yet, I am glad that we were able to say our goodbyes. When my husband and brother arrived, Father Steve spoke beautiful words over his body, and we recited The Lord's Prayer as they wheeled him away.

It is not easy having an addiction. I know because, for years, I too struggled with addiction. Luckily, I found a twelve step program that worked for me, and I was able to begin my journey to active recovery.

In my experience, being a family member of someone in active addiction was so much harder than addiction itself. As family members, we do not have drugs to numb the constant anxiety of wondering if the person you love is okay. The fear that every time the phone rings, it will be someone telling you that your loved one is in some new trouble or even worse dead. Then there is the constant questioning of your reaction to their death spiral. " Am I enabling this behavior?" "Am I too tough on him?" "Does he know I love him?" "If I just say the right thing to him, will I be able to save him?" The truth is that recovery is something that the person must want for themselves, and we never know what button needs to be pushed to make them want it.

I have struggled with guilt. Why did I survive and Brett did not. There is also the guilt of wondering if I did enough to help him. But, I have an excellent support system and have struggled through this with my sobriety intact

Brett was so much more than just someone that struggled with substance use disorder. He was a smart, vibrant, caring, and beautiful man. He leaves behind a family and many friends that will mourn his loss forever. But, like many other families, we will no longer sit silently as other families go through this. We are speaking out and sharing Brett's story. We know that the death toll is rising from drug overdoses, but there is hope for all the families that are dealing with this disease. Grassroots groups like Shatterproof are springing up every day around the country to help erase the stigma and raise awareness. If you have a loved one who is struggling, reach out to one of these groups so that they can guide and support you as you work towards a better outcome for your loved one.

Originally published in 2018.