Fragments Of A Distant Heart

What do you do when half of you is gone? This is the story of love, loss, and learning to live after losing my twin.

Addiction took my brother. Grief almost took me. This book is how I found a way through both. When my twin brother, Chris, died from an overdose, the world as I knew it stopped. From the very beginning, we were inseparable, two halves of the same heartbeat. We shared summers filled with laughter, classrooms and hallways where we grew up side by side, and the unspoken bond only twins understand. Yet beneath the smiles, Chris carried struggles that neither of us fully understood, battled with belonging and identity that slowly pulled him into addiction.

This book is both a love letter and a lament. It is a collection of memories, some sweet, some haunting, woven together with the raw truth of what it feels like to lose someone who was not just your brother, but your mirror. From the innocence of childhood, to the awkward search for acceptance in our teenage years, to the devastating night everything fell apart, these pages trace the journey of two lives that were meant to walk together, and the breaking point when one was forced to continue alone.

But this is not only a story about death; it is a story about what comes after. About navigating the silence he left behind, the anger and the questions that never end, the unbearable ache of missing someone who should still be here. It is also about the unexpected ways grief transforms you, teaching you to breathe when you don't want to, to lean into gratitude when life feels unfair, and to discover strength you never knew you had.

At its core, this book is about love, the kind of love that survives even the greatest loss. A love that refuses to fade, that keeps showing up in memories, in small signs, in the way those we've lost remain woven into us.

I never set out to write a book. What I set out to do was survive. After Chris died, the grief was suffocating, and I didn't know what to do with all the pain, the memories, and the words I never got to say. Writing became my way of holding on to him, of keeping his story alive, and of making sense of my own.

I wrote this book because addiction doesn't just happen in statistics or headlines, it happens to families, to brothers and sisters, to people we love with all our hearts. I wanted to put a face, a name, and a story to that reality. Chris was so much more than his struggles. He was funny, caring, stubborn, protective, and deeply loved. He mattered. And I refuse to let the world forget that.

I also wrote this for anyone who has experienced grief and feels like no one understands. Grief is lonely, but you don't have to walk through it alone. If sharing my story gives even one person comfort, courage, or the reminder that their loved one's life still has meaning, then every painful word I've written is worth it.

This book is for Chris. And it's for you.