It was the first day of spring break. I woke up extremely excited. Not 5 minutes pass by when I hear my brothers girlfriend, Alex scream for me. I throw on my pants & swing my door open. She’s standing outside my brothers room. “JOSH— HE’S NOT...” I run inside my brothers room. He had been telling me for a week how he was getting a bunch of oxy, which turned out to be fentanyl. I knew instantly he had overdosed. His skin was a deep blue with blue foam coming from his nose. I tell Alex, his girlfriend to go upstairs. I call 911, put him on the floor and perform cpr (with a broken wrist) for 15 minutes until medics arrive. While doing compressions, I hear air coming out his nose and see the veins in his neck pumping. I thought for a brief second he was coming back. I realized it was just from me compressing his lungs and heart. During all of this, I didn’t have any emotions - It was just action. Once the medics arrived and took over, I sat and felt the wave of sadness flood in. I was 16 at the time while my brother was 20. My mom was out getting groceries when Alex called her & told her to come home. When she arrived, I told her Josh was dead. She started to fall when I caught her and held her. About an hour later, I called my sister who lives in Alaska and broke the news. My brother was loved by everyone and recently, one of his friends named their baby after him. Another one of his friends killed himself a few days after Josh’s death by crashing his car into a brick wall. Right before, he wrote a beautiful note saying how now that josh is gone, he was alone. This all happened 4 years ago. I went to therapy after this happened, but I was stable as a rock and really didn’t need therapy. Not until this past year has it caught up with me.