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August marks International Overdose Awareness Month—a time to remember the precious lives lost to overdose and to stand in solidarity with the families left behind. For many, this month is deeply personal. It’s not just a global observance—it’s a reminder of sons and daughters, siblings and friends, whose stories were cut short by substance use disorder. It’s about honoring lives lost to addiction.

When grieving a loved one, it’s pretty typical to question God and even turn away from Him. Our silence toward Him is exhibited in a variety of ways. Have you found yourself angry with God for letting your loved one die? How often have you shared some words with God that weren’t so pretty? Anger is grief that has been silent for too long.

There are no shortcuts through grief. Covering my ears, or covering my heart, only keeps the sorrow at bay temporarily. Feel all the feelings. Cry all the tears—though it seems the more we let them fall, the more they produce. Perhaps we can think of them as holy raindrops.

When tragedy strikes and the dam of sorrow bursts, we are thrust back into a place we thought we had left behind. The ache is raw, and the grief feels new, even if it’s old. What do we do?