Graduation Day. June 13th, 2017. I remember walking to the football field, scanning the crowd for my family. After a few minutes of searching, I spotted them leaning against the fence, but there was a person missing. I thought that my brother, Brendan, was just running late, so I brushed it off my shoulders. My family was notorious for being late to important events, so it didn't bother me. Still, I remember nervously looking back to the spot where my family stood as I waited for my brother to arrive. When he finally did, I breathed a sigh of relief as I waited for the ceremony to begin.
"Well, at least he didn't miss it," I thought to myself.
I remember once the ceremony was over, as soon as I made eye contact with Brendan, I knew he was high. My dad could barely look at him and I felt tension simmering between him and my family. I was upset, but at this point, it wasn't surprising to me anymore. We had known for a while that he had been using, but we swept it under the rug for so long after failed attempts to get him help. Plus, he was an adult, and we couldn't force him to do anything he didn't consent to do.
Me and Brendan at The Turning PointEmma Piccinini
After we had celebrated and gone to dinner, my brother drove home because he felt sick. The entire next day he could barely remember anything besides throwing up and blacking out over and over again. He thought he had the flu or a stomach bug, but little did he, or anyone, know that his kidneys were failing. He was dying. Two days later, in the morning, my mom picked him up to take him to the doctor's office, but when he got into the front seat of her car, they both agreed that this was an emergency and he needed to be taken to the hospital.
In the hospital, Brendan finally opened up and admitted to how bad his addiction had become over the years. After many private conversations with the doctor, he made the brave decision to check into rehab once he was released from the hospital. He was admitted to a place about half an hour away from my house, which made visiting him accessible and easy. He was in rehab for the 30 days, throughout the whole month of July.
Before we were allowed to see him on visiting days, my parents and I had to take an educational class about having family members who struggle with addiction. At the end of the class, a woman stood up and told the story of her son that had died of an overdose just a week before. He reminded me of my brother. Like Brendan, her son was a writer. He wrote down all of the words that his demons had shouted at him through the years of his addiction. When she spoke of her son, it was the first time the weight of the situation truly took a toll on me.
Brendan on Christmas DayEmma Piccinini
I visited my brother every Wednesday and Saturday. Every week I watched as my brother gained back life in his eyes. I remember the first time I visited him, he was already so much easier to talk to. Despite the 10 year age difference, I could feel our bond growing stronger, too. I had never seen my brother so determined to accomplish something in his life, but he was set on getting better. He would tell us stories of the people that he had met who had been back to rehab for their third, fourth, and even fifth time and how much he never wanted that to happen to him. I believed in him, and still very much do.
The day we picked him up to take him home, I almost wanted to tell my mom to turn the car around on the way to get him. I had a sudden urge to protect my brother from the dangers of the world outside of rehab and the urges that he would have to deal with every day. Instead, I swallowed my pride and kept faith in my brother. He was strong. He knew what to do to fight those urges now.
The keychain Brendan gave to my momEmma Piccinini
About a month ago, my mom, stepdad, Brendan and I went out to the same restaurant we had gone to for my graduation dinner. As we walked through the parking lot, my brother handed my mom a keychain that read "clean and serene for one year." He received it from his Narcotics Anonymous group that he attends meetings with 3 to 5 times a week on the one year anniversary of his sobriety. At that moment, I realized just how proud I was of my brother for all of the pain that he conquered. He has his whole life to go, but I believe in him to take the right steps to stay sober. He is forever my role model.