On the way down that dusty, dirty, windy road to the cliff where I used to park and contemplate my life there stands a solitary power pole. this power pole has a line connected to the power lines that follow this road but it takes the line back up through the rolling hills of the mountain bottom. What makes this power pole unusual is that the power line goes to it but then terminates. It simply is not connected to anything else.
The answer to this riddle lies further up the mountain side, hidden behind a little grove of brush and stick trees where there is a large concrete slab and the remnants of an ancient water tower. When you stand there looking down the rolling hills you can see that at one point that solitary power pole was part of a chain that would have brought power up to this tower. However, now the site is deserted, apart from some old rusted clues explaining its fate.
It was here that they found my brother’s body.
He hadn’t showed up to work that morning, yet he left first thing, so later on that afternoon some of his buddies went looking for him. They found him down this old four-wheel drive trail to this site. His truck was still running, a long flexible hose duct-taped to the exhaust on one end with the other end going into the cab via the back window, all duct-taped as well. The doors were locked and he was laying down on the bench seat with a blanket over top of him. One of his tapes were in the cassette player, playing loudly.
It would be mid-evening before I received a call at work from my mother.
I took the call and she asked if I was sitting down. I could hear in the tone of her voice that something was up. She told me that the police were there and that my brother was dead.
I fell off my stool, desperately trying to cling to the edge of the counter-top like I was clinging to an edge of a cliff. I was to wait there and that the police would be there shortly to pick me up.
I was stunned. All the air had left my lungs, leaving me speechless and gasping for breath. I couldn’t focus as tears filled my eyes and the room was dizzy. I made it outside, collapsing on a picnic bench, while I waited for the police to arrive.
It was early May so there was just enough coolness in the evening to help me find air once again.
The police were later than expected in picking me up as they had stopped by the hospital for my father to identify the body.
My brother had written a note.
He told me that he had enjoyed our talk and that it wasn’t my fault that he had taken his life. He also wrote that he almost didn’t do it because of our talk.
He then mentioned that he left me his truck.
Fuck his truck.
I wanted him back. I wanted my brother back. I wanted a relationship with my fucking brother.
I didn’t want his fucking truck.
But that wasn’t the case. Instead he drove up to a secluded spot, locked his doors, and laid down to go to sleep.
My heart shattered into a thousand different pieces.