This is a recount of what happened to my one year old son, Baby Boy Morgan O'rion Howard who was born on June 25, 2009 and murdered on my diseased, older brother Cody 'Kodi' Lee Brown's birthday, July 27, 2010.
It was Tuesday, July 27, 2010 in the heat of the day. Morgan just got done taking a nap on my lap and stomach and woke up and gave me a kitty kiss and what he called a hug. We got up, because I had to walk up the hill to my Nana and Papa's basement to do my laundry because I was remodeling a few parts of the house, and we hadn't installed our new washer and dryer.
Morgan followed me outside, and I told him to be home before nightfall. And yes, he was a cat, but he didn't know that. He understood everything he was told. So, he defiantly wasn't a cat to anyone. He was a 'human with a hair disorder and mute.' My son gave me that look before he always jumped off the porch and I smiled and petted him them stood back up. I looked to my left and seen four people getting out of a car and a guy pushing a red bicycle into his house. I didn't think anything of it.
So, with that, I walked up that endless hill and typed in the pass code to the basement and walked in and did some laundry. I came back to the house and through the cloths to the side of the room and got my Sony Walkman and went on a walk for about thirty minutes.
When I came back, it all became a haze. And night came quick, and Morgan wasn't back yet. I called for him, and he didn't come. So, I figured he was going to sleep outside that night, which he did once or twice a month. I went back inside, and again, everything became a haze.
But, during my walk, I had cried. Not only was it the second birthday that I had to deal with my brother being gone forever, but I felt like something terrible had happened, besides the fact that a neighbor had died that same day. Now, this is all a side note, but I was kept away from my half-brother Kodi because his mother was a bitch, along with his adoptive father. Excuse my language, but those are some of the worst people ever. And there is even more to the story, but that's for another time.
Well, I came home and finished watching 'General Hospital.' Yet, I didn't know what was wrong still.
The next day came, and I woke up around 10 A.M. I took a shower, but couldn't find myself trying to eat anything, so my energy was low and I was feeling depressed. My brother, Deaven Chase Howard, was in our parent's room on the computer since his is messed up and I don't let him use my laptop. My parents were hard at work in 90 degrees weather for our family business, Howard Motor Company.
And yet, Morgan hadn't come home early that morning. Finally, lunch time came and Mom and Dad came home for lunch, and took Deaven back to the shop with them, leaving me all alone. Again, I paused 'General Hospital' and went on a walk, but not before I found Morgan. Now, here's a tidbit about Morgan, ever since I got him, which wasn't even two weeks old, since he was on the brink of death, he would lay on my stomach or lap and we would watch 'General Hospital' and eat BBQ chips together, that was just our mother/son thing.
I first went to check my parent's closet to see if he came in when I was on a walk earlier, and he wasn't there. Then, I went outside and called him. And this is where I wish I wasn't home alone. And I live on a family road, so I'm surrounded by family. However, my house is at the corner of the woods, and practically on the side of a bank. No one would have ever been able to hear me scream, and I'm a loud screamer.
I looked to my right, and I could feel everything in me shatter. My heart was just ripped out and my soul was burned at the steak it seemed. As fast as I could, and grabbed my phone. By now, within seconds, I was in tears and screaming and shouting and cursing at the wind. Thankfully, Mom was on speed dial at the moment and it didn't take her long to answer.
She couldn't understand a thing I was saying between my sobbing and screaming. All I could remember saying was "MOM! Hurry! Get home! Morgan! It's Morgan! HURRY! MY BABY BOY'S DEAD!" Between all that, I had no clue what she said but something about being home in a few minutes.
Five minutes that lasted an eternity after that call, Nana had come home, but she didn't see me in her huge Tahoe as she was pulling into the basement. When she got out, she heard me screaming. At first, apparently, she thought I was my brother Deaven, since we both share the same strong looks, and the bank was steep.
Nana ran down that hill in her heels, asking if I had turned my ankle again, which I do frequently. Right there I wished I had instead of dealing with my baby boy lying on the ground, dead. His right side was facing upwards. His mouth was slightly open, and his ears back somewhat, while his eyes were squinted.
Morgan was the most handsome cat that ever existed, and if you had seen him, you would agree. But his eyes were the brightest blue that ever existed. So, when I seen what little eye I could see of his eyes, all the life was sucked out of him. A few ants were crawling around his mouth and ear, but I was so scared. I couldn't stop screaming and sobbing, but who could when they found their child lying on the ground, lifeless?
There was dog saliva on his right side, so I assumed he was killed by a dog. But there was something off because he was still in the running position. His legs were stretched out, and his tail was buffered. Yet, the pain in his face is what killed my soul.
A few minutes after Nana arrived, my parents made it home, and I screamed at the top of my lungs to keep Deaven away, since he is sensitive to death, unlike me, who has been surrounded by it my whole life.
They couldn't see me, so they followed my voice. Instantly, tears welled up in their eyes as well. Mother wrapped her arms around me, and Nana tried to block my view of my baby, but I kept pushing them away. Finally, Daddy had Mom go get a blanket and get Deaven in the house. And when she left, he turned my son over. The blood was light for some reason, but I seen some tissue hanging out.
But instead of a dog bite, there was a bullet wound. Someone CHASED and SHOT my SON! I was even more heartbroken.
So, instead of wanting to kill some dog Ol' Yeller Style, I felt every bone in my body fill with rage and I wanted to retaliate against whoever would do such an insane and barbaric thing. To make it worse, we were living in city limits, so there was no shooting aloud.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't think.
I couldn't speak.
All I could do was weep and scream.
Mother came back with an old sheet and covered Morgan up…And that was the last I seen of my baby boy. I couldn't touch him. All I could do was scream his name. By now, Dad had told Nana to go call the Animal Shelter to see if they are open and ask about their cremating of animals, because that's what I wanted. Dad wrapped him so gently, and placed him on the stairs of the porch.
By now, my other senses had caught up with me and I could smell death in the air, and could tell that he had been dead for more than twelve hours.
My parents pulled me inside and sat me down, but I couldn't sit down, so I ended up falling on the floor. I got on 'Facebook' and raised all sorts of hell, as well as many other people, because, around here, news travels faster than the speed of light.
Mom had called the local police's personal cell, asking him what we should do, because someone had also hit our mailbox on Kodi's birthday.
And after that, they came in there and tried cooling me down with a wet washcloth while discussing about news they were told about that happened yesterday. Another neighbor of ours had come home late that afternoon of Morgan's death and had heard gunshots in the woods behind our house.
That's when it all clicked together, at least I thought, and still think. But we started getting suspicious of our new neighbor, who rides a red bike because he has no license. Because the day he moved in, and the day I found Morgan, he had been riding around behind mine and my aunt's houses.
Things started getting confusing then; I was in just too much of a rage over the murder of my child. But I had to get him off the porch. So, I got Mother, and I calmed myself down enough to drive, so I could concentrate on something other than my son.
I drove all over the place it seemed. But after going to the nearest Wal-mart, looking for a pet urn, since we couldn't afford to have the vets cremate him for us, and we thought we could do it ourselves, but, found out we couldn't sustain a fire long enough to do that, I had Mom drive to the next since they didn't sell them there. I know none of this makes sense, but Morgan dying doesn't make sense to me.
Anyways, we went to the next, and bought a pet urn that was a heart that said 'Beloved Friend.' And we decided to bury him and just put his favorite, small toys in the urn part. After that, we went to Michael's and I found a blue and brown box that read 'Love Generously.' I also picked out a fake bouquet of blue and browns flowers.
What no one understands is that Morgan put my family back together after the death of my brother Kodi. And he loved us all equally and had such a personality.
Then, we drove to Advanced Auto Parts and got some quick cement to seal the box once we placed him in there.
The road to that house, which I once referred to as a home, seemed endless, but I had to face it. We pulled into our driveway, and seen my parent's long, lost friend's, who is in the army, F-150 pulled up. Dad had informed him of what was going on from what I was told when I stuttered inside.
I didn't talk, I didn't smile. I felt catatonic almost. And that's when I couldn't watch Dad put Morgan into that box and seal him in, for all eternity. I prayed to God and asked why he did this, and I wondered what happened to cat's having nine lives, because I had another cat a long time ago that died and then after five hours of death, she came back to life, believe it or not.
I stormed out the door and went on another walk, but not without looking to my right and starring at the spot where I found him.
When I came back, Mom and our friend were going to go put him in the refrigerator in the basement so he didn't rot or stink even more.
Things just became a haze again. And I was angry, again.
My son. My baby boy. It was over for him…And I can't just go from planning a memorial for my older brother to planning a funeral for my son. Not within that amount of time.
I couldn't sleep that night. But I had such a terrible headache that no medications that we had could take care of it. But it was better than having a bullet in the chest like my baby had. However, it got so bad that I passed out from pain.
The next day came, and I laid in bed for hours, because Mom and opened my door, and whenever she did that, Morgan would come storming in my room and make so much noise and kiss me good morning. But he never came, and again, and cried and screamed.
When I found the strength to get out, the house was just so quiet. He wasn't there. He'll never be here. The whole day flew by as I looked for his toys and informed more people. Then, I had to get the shovels from the basement and locate a spot to bury him.
The ground was so hard, so I had to get the hose and water it down. But, when Mom came home to help me dig the hole, there were a bunch of roots. So, we went to where there was a post in our back yard.
It took us forever to dig that huge hole. And with every shovel full of dirt I dug, it was ten times more painful than the last, that is, emotionally painful.
When it was all over, Dad had come home and I washed up to look somewhat decent for my baby's funeral. While I did that, he had gone and got Morgan.
And as my family stood in a circle, hand in hand, around him, all there were was tears and prayers. I looked one last time at that saying 'Love Generously' and let out anther sob. And there, I was the first to put dirt over him.
My heart was shattered at that point. Here I was, burying my own child. And we all knew that Morgan would outlive me because I'm so reckless.
When we got the dirt settled and patted down, we placed his headstone/urn there, and I bent over him and put those flowers in the ground. I couldn't find myself to get up, but I couldn't fall and seem weak in front of everyone.
The rest of the day was just another haze. And when the sun came up the next day, I was just hit with a ton of bricks. I just flew by and I tried to get away from the house, but anywhere I went, there was more drama.
And I thought to myself, Suzy must have found him and brought him home. Because it would explain why he wasn't eaten, and why there was saliva on him, and why she was depressed.
No one knows what Morgan means to me. And no one except a parent that lost a child knows that the most painful thing in the world besides love, being in love, or any other love there is, is unconditional love. Unconditional love is what hurts you the most in the end. It's what kills you. It's what puts the grease or butter on your hands when you go to try and grip reality again. It's what destroys your soul.
Morgan ate with his paws, didn't meow but once or twice a day, and when he did it was so quite. I played with him under the kitchen table. During dinner he would lay on our feet when we sat around the table. When I talked into the kitchen, he would follow and lie on the floor and trip me up every time, without fail. When he was brought home, he was so small that we could put him in a pocket and carry him around. And he'd also sleep on our shoulders like a parrot. He was my baby, and he was taken away from me.
I have no clue if it's punishment or not. And yes, I have blamed myself. And every moment of every day since I found him, that last image has scared me and I can't get it out of my head. I still call for him, thinking he's gonna come home shortly. And Dad keeps waiting for him to join him for coffee in the morning after he runs into his room when his alarm goes to wake him up. Mom still waits for him to come into bed so she can tuck him in. Deaven keeps waiting for him so he can watch him play video games. But I mostly wait for him so I can hold him again and cradle him like a baby, which he never let me stop doing since I got him.
But then the good memories come in. Like, when we first got him, he found this baby blue rattle that was really small because it was for a baby shower, and he would constantly play with it until it broke, and I swear he cried.
And the only song that baby would fall asleep to on the dot to was Janis Ian's "When Angel's Cry" song. I would always play it when he was restless or sick.
The pain I feel is unbearable. And like I posted on Facebook, I hate that whenever I lower the gun, there's another target. When I come out from behind that sword and shield, there's another army to face in this endless war. When I unball my fist, someone else steps into the arena. I want a break, but I can't have one. And A-walling on life is not an option for me.
My Brother is gone. My Son is gone. My Soul is gone. I'll never be the same. And I'll never get my own screams out of my head. I'll never get that image out of my head. And I'll defiantly never be the same person.
I love you Kodi. I love you Morgan. I miss you both so much. And I need you both. Please, take care of each other.
Cody 'Kodi' Lee Brown- July 27, 1990 ~ April 9, 2009.
Baby Boy Morgan O'rion Howard- June 25, 2009 ~ July 27, 2010.
My Soul- June 9, 1994 ~ July 27, 2010.