When Ike blew through on a Saturday night, the first thing to go was the power. The top of the oak tree that used to shade most of my patio was not far behind. Miraculously it caused only a minor dent to the carport below.
On Monday, as there was still no electricity (and no internet) I decided I would play day laborer and help with the cleanup. At first I dragged limbs to the street, then grabbed a rake and worked on the lighter foliage under the carports.
Martin and Roman under Macky's supervision had worked their way steadily through the heavy debris and were soon on the roof of the carport cutting the limbs off the treetop that had fallen there, When only the denuded trunk remained, still attached to its base and supported by the carport, they brought in the rope.
Martin secured one end to the trunk and deftly tossed the other end over the notch of a neighboring tree. As the chain saw severed the remaining support, the rope controlled the downward swing of the tree.
Nine days later, Martin came early to the property. Taking the rope, he secured one end and deftly tossed the other end over the notch of the tree above the table in his work area. Then standing on the table, he slipped a loop over his neck, clenched his fists and jumped. His friend found him when he came to share breakfast tacos.
Martin was 28, the father of two little boys, son to two parents who regularly received money from him; whom he called every Monday from the little office on the property. He lived with his brother and had more siblings in Houston and in OK and in Mexico. He saw his children every weekend and had no health or money problems. Why would he have made such a decision?
I, of course do not have any answers for Martin. I have a deep sympathy for Roman and Macky and the others whom I know he worked with and befriended on this property. I have a deep sympathy for his siblings and parents and the little boys he left behind. And I have an inkling of an understanding for the feelings that can bring one to the end of a rope.
It has not been so long ago in my life though that I too felt that life was not worth living. That period in my life when I felt as though I did not really matter to anyone was just the bubbling of the feeling to the surface. In fact, I have/had been something of a walking zombie for the last several years.
My resurrection has been occurring slowly, but I am beginning to again taste the sweetness of life and am again becoming desirous of long life and prosperity. I wish that Martin had waded through the darkness and waited for the light to reappear.
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