There But for the Grace of God

There But for the Grace of God

I read a particularly disturbing news article today. A local woman was found deceased from an overdose. Her dog died with her. I read that sentence three times before it landed, and then my heart just sank.

There but for the grace of God.

This is every parent's worst nightmare.

I found myself wondering about the people she left behind. Have her parents heard the news yet? What about her grandparents? Did she have brothers or sisters, close friends, a whole circle of people who loved her? I imagine this will devastate everyone who knew her — not just because she's gone, but because of how she died, alone, with only her dog beside her.

I wonder if she knew how many people were praying for her.

I wonder if her family was still in contact with her, or if they'd had to make the kind of impossible decisions so many families are forced into — stepping back, setting boundaries, hoping and praying she would hit her bottom and finally reach for help. I wonder if her parents had support of their own, the kind every family walking through a loved one's addiction desperately needs and so rarely gets. I wonder if she had children. A husband. 

I wonder, more than anything, if she knew how deeply she was loved.

The Numbers Behind the Story

In the US, the most recent CDC data — for the 12 months ending in early 2026 — points to roughly 69,000 to 70,000 overdose deaths a year. That works out to about 190 deaths a day.

190 families grieving tonight. 190 stories just like hers.

This Isn't Abstract for Me

For seven years, my husband and I have sat with parents of adult children living with substance use disorder and alcohol use disorder — learning together what to let go of, what to hold onto, and how to find hope while we wait for someone we love to be ready. More recently, I started a second group, this one for parents of teens, built around a single hope: that when a teenager hits a crisis, their first instinct is to run toward home, not away from it.

I share this not to point you toward a program, but because it's why this story landed the way it did. I've watched too many families live in the space between fear and hope. I think about that woman's family living there, too.

What Can You Do?

Carry naloxone. It's a medication that rapidly reverses an opioid overdose, often within minutes. You may know it by the brand name Narcan. It works on opioids — heroin, fentanyl, prescription painkillers — and it's now available over the counter at most pharmacies, no prescription needed. One important note: it's short-acting, so medical treatment is still necessary even after it's used. But in that critical window, it can be the difference between life and death.

Help us reduce the stigma. Addiction is a disease, not a character flaw. Imagine if we treated families walking through a child's addiction the way we treat families facing a serious illness — bringing meals, sitting with them without judgment, simply showing up. Families wouldn't feel so isolated, so judged, so alone. And when families don't feel alone, they're far more able to seek help — both for their loved one, and for themselves.

A Place to Start

If you're a parent walking through this with a child of any age, you don't have to do it alone. Reach out to me at Kerby Konnects — through coaching, through a support group, or just to talk. And if you're reading this with no direct connection to addiction at all, consider picking up a naloxone kit this week. You may never need it. But if you do, you'll be glad you had it.

None of us can undo what happened to that woman and her dog. But every one of us can do something, today, to make sure the next story ends differently.