Well, my dad died, a little over a year before I started smoking. He died of lung cancer, so I felt guilty when I started smoking cigarettes a few months after his death.

I actually started smoking weed when I came home, looked outside for my cat that was missing for a few days, and then saw his body in my neighbors fenced in yard, their dogs killed my cat. I was a wreck, until my friend came over, and said getting high would make me feel better. It did. It was better than living in depression everyday, I never looked back and a week later I was a daily smoker.