As I opened the delicate box, I saw a locket, a small silver locket that almost seemed to glisten in the morning light that seeped through the curtains as it reflected off of the snow. It was Christmas morning. My living room was filled with cheery lights and a ginormous Christmas tree that my family had cut down a month prior. The presents that were once delicately wrapped under the tree, were now open boxes and the wrapping paper was discarded around the room. The last gift I received was a small box that contained a locket that resembled a tree. The locket was for my brother Kenneth Christian (KC). He was someone who could make anyone feel welcome. He grew up feeling unwanted and never wanted anyone else to feel the way he did. With his fire-red hair, rosy cheeks, and sunny smile he didn’t really look like the rest of my family. He was different. We were all thin and long, whereas he was the opposite. Maybe that's why he felt so unwanted, because he didn’t look the part, and maybe that's why he decided to leave us at such a young age. I would never know the answers to those questions because he fell victim to the same drug that took my dad away from me and died. As I picked up the locket, tears pooled out of my eyes and ran down my face. The same tears fell onto my new locket, dulling the glistening effect it had just once had. Up until this moment, I did not have anything left of my brother, and now I finally did. I can still remember August 2, 2020, like it was yesterday. It was the day I lost my brother. The basement light-filled up the hallway as I heard my mother's screams of pain and agony. The stairs seemed to stretch miles long as I watched my parents, family, and paramedics descend into the basement. The usually cold and abandoned basement was filled with warm light and chatter of people. I could hear them from the vent of my room. I could hear them trying to move the now broken bathroom door, I could hear them trying to resuscitate my brother, and finally, I heard them call a time of death in that small, cold, wet bathroom in the basement where my brother KC had taken his final breaths. To some, my locket might not look like much, but it means a lot to me. It is a reminder to remember my brother. It is a reminder to never follow in the footsteps of my grandfather, my dad, and my brother. Most importantly it is a reminder to never become an addict.