All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Day He Died
I don’t remember much about that day. Its faint, blurry even. Like a fog blocking me from the rest of that day. Only one memory remains. My ptsd forces me to remember parts of my tramas, only parts. That day was before my diagnosis of major depressive disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder. I had been gone for while due to illness. What illness i can’t fathom to remember. That day was when i broke… It started out as a normal morning of getting ready for a thing, a dreaded thing called hel… school. I was busy being the busy bee i am. He was happy.
My sister was already ready she wanted to hurry up so she could be on her computer before we left. She also would put makeup on at the same time. She was going to high school at that time, My brother isolated away his room he had the furthest room in the house. We called it the back bedroom. He had his bed, desktop, basically everything in there. my father was sound asleep. My mom is always up when we get ready to go to school. She would help us get ready for school and watch the time for us, then. Smokie one of our cats was really old, 13 even.
My mom was sitting on our couch using her computer. I think she was watching godvine videos or playing games on facebook. Our couch was one that doubled as a bed, my bed, I had all of my blankets there and pillows there. I was still not feeling well that morning. I had been feeling off that whole night. Like something wasn't right, like something bad was going to happen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was in the air. The sun was just coming up, but it was still dark outside. It was chilly there was ice on the grass. When you walk on it the grass would go crunch. Smokie was on the arm rest next to mom demanding attention, purring up a storm. Just loving on everyone he could get his hands on. Mom is a loving woman, She is always there for us and is understanding. When i was little she would dress me (She would and still does), make us dinner sometimes breakfast too. She would stay up with me all night when i would be so sick i would puke every hour. She would watch disney movies with us when we were kids. I love my mom, she has a heart like a big giant loving living teddy bear. True she was older and gray was starting to show up in her hair but i didn't care. I love my mom. I leave the room to go do something, I forgot what. When I came back to the room, I wanted to sit on the couch. Smokie was right there, so like anyone would do to an animal, I gently pushed him backwards so he would be behind me. Something unexpected happened. In my life, i've had many animals, but smokie was the most important and special to me. He was part of the family before I was born.
He slept with me in my crib and was almost always with me. He was my cat, my little guardian, my angel. I still don't know what caused my PTSD but i am getting help. I used to be depressed all the time but recently i was prescribed a medication that helped substantially with my depression. Turns out most my my depression was caused by a chem imbalance. Serotonin, was leaking out of my brain.
He flopped up and let out a really loud pained meow. I panicked and moved. Everything was a blur, he wasn't moving. My mom told me to go get dad, I ran to the master bedroom and told my dad “get up its smokie” he was out there in less than a minute. The only thing that I remember from that day was thinking “ it's all my fault” Coming home in tears I go over to the box and see him lying there peacefully. I go to pet him as a salty river stream down my face. His body was cold. The fleas were jumping off of him. They were everywhere. It was bad. After that we buried him.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.