BROOKE Grieve, the sister of Regan Grieve, the talented young Mackay rugby league player, who took his own life on Australia Day last year, has written a touching tribute to her brother.
The tribute was posted on Facebook site - It's ok not to be ok - and has received more than 3000 likes and almost 800 shares.
"It's been a pretty consistent thing that I've been doing it's just that this one has gotten the most coverage," she said.
"I'm an ambassador for Livin, so I've put on Livin events and done speeches with them,"
Brooke said she was approached Hayleigh Hocking who began the It's ok not to be ok page and asked if she would like to write about the story of her brother.
The reason for Brooke writing the piece is to raise awareness about suicide prevention.
"That's the aim of the game for me," she said.
"We can't sugar-coat (suicide), it's still there."
At midnight on the 26th January, 2015 my entire world stopped.
Everything I knew, loved, valued ... cherished and perceived, changed forever.
Regan Patrick Mitchell Grieve, my darling little brother, took his own life, at just 18 years of age. And with it, took mine right along with him.
When he died, all that was beautiful and gentle and glowing so golden that it was warm, would be cremated right there beside him too.
Not only had my brother suddenly disappeared, a part of my very being, a part of myself, was suddenly gone as well.
Death isn't strings mourning through a melody behind this motion picture scene depicting the beautiful Hollywood starlet as she fades away with brushes of pale hues dusted perfectly across her also perfectly structured features.
It isn't having not a hair out of place, as her last breath is used to construct a confession of the deepest love for her dreamy male co-star's character before the camera spans out dramatically on the tragic setting just as it starts to rain.
Death is not pretty. Nor is it timed. And more often than not, death is definitely not something you get to do in the arms of someone you love and be able to tell them one last time how you feel.
Death is sirens, its darkness. Death is a torture chamber of unanswered questions and taunting regrets.
It's bloody, it's catastrophic, it's the detonation device to 350 tonnes of explosives strapped to a building it's about to demolish into concrete confetti.
I wanted to burn everything to the ground, I wanted to kill someone, I wanted to run until I could run no more without a moment of looking back because he would never be there again.
He had fallen off the face of the earth and I would never be able to find him again.
Death is not beautiful, it is not poetry or art or the ... works of a Shakespearean play. It is agony, it is callous, it is never again finding peace within this cold and cruel world.
My brother, who once shone with the intensity of all of the galaxies in the universe combined, was gone.
Depression had consumed his light so much that he felt his only option was to end his own life.
I will never know why, I will never understand that level of pain, and I will always look for him in every second of every day for the rest of my life even knowing full well that he will never again be there.
I can't bring him back, but I can bring him into as many lives as I possibly can.
He is in me, in you, in any person that reads this and feels a twinge of agony, familiarity, empathy or despair. He is in his story, his legacy, and for that... he will live forever.
In fighting against the darkness that claimed my stunning baby brother, we are all Regan. In his story, his life carries on.
If you need help or assistance, phone one of the following numbers.
Lifeline 13 11 14
Headspace 1800 650 890
Mackay Integrated Mental Health 4968 3893
Beyondblue 1300 224 636
Suicide call back service 1300 659 467
Update your news preferences and get the latest news delivered to your inbox.