When I think about my big brother I think about his strength, his charisma, his ability to light up a room and make everyone laugh with his offbeat sense of humor. I think about his loyalty and willingness to do absolutely anything in his power to help anyone struggling. When I think about my brother I think about how lucky I am to have him as my best friend while growing up.

But when I think about my brother I also think about addiction.

Earlier this month, the unthinkable happened to my family: we lost my brother. The day I found out I thought it was the worst day of my life. When someone is taken from you at such a young age you’re left with a lot of questions, a heavy heart, and a pit in your stomach. He had so much he was still supposed to do, there was so much I still needed to tell him, so much we were supposed to still be going through together; how could this happen? You learn that the day you find out is not the worst day of your life because the subsequent days waking up without them in the world is even harder. When you lose someone, you don’t just lose them once. You lose them again through so many little moments throughout the day. You find that no matter where you are, what you are doing, or who you are with the waves of sadness and missing them will wash over you.

But if there was anything that my brother would want, it would be to help others even when he is not physically here to do so. In his memory, and the memory of so many that have battled addiction: let’s end the epidemic. Let’s break the silence.

Addiction. It’s a scary word that’s usually used in hushed tones or condemnatory voices. It’s a topic that so many people try to avoid. But what is it really? It’s not a junkie on the street or some disreputable kid that dropped out of your high school. Addiction is not a private family matter or an issue to be suppressed. Addiction is a vicious disease that does not discriminate. It is everyone’s problem.

Addiction is a misunderstood disease; but it is just that: a disease. No one would willingly cause so much pain to themselves or to their family. Once that can be accepted, we can move forward in helping those that face it. The physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion that comes with battling addiction is felt by not just the addict, but their friends and family too. But I would take every second of that frustration and fear back because within all of that there is hope. There is nothing in that fight that prepares you for the finality and despair that is felt with death.

Let’s fight the demon of addiction; not the addict. An addict is not a distant, scary person to be avoided. They are loved far more than they know, they are cherished family members, they are close friends. When I think of my brother, I will not think of an addict. I will think of an advocate. I will think of someone who fought so hard and struggled for so long.

My brother was not able to find peace in this world, but that doesn’t mean that there is no hope for anyone else that is struggling with similar demons. Healing comes through acceptance, open dialogue and an end of the stigma associated with addiction. So many lives could be saved just by putting our judgment aside and helping those who are struggling.