The Abyss
The Descent into Darkness
My brother-in-law, Brian Martineau, never made it out of the South Tower of the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001. He was just 37.
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I saw things in Manhattan that week that I will never be able to unsee and carried that PTSD, silently, for 21 years.
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Brian's sister Tara passed away in 2009 at the age of 48.
Brian's sister Cathy, my wife, passed away in 2021 at the age of 59.
Brian's mother, Mona passed away in July of 2022 at the age of 84. Â Her husband, Ed, cried: "I've buried my three children, I can't bury my wife."
A month later Ed passed away, at the age of 87 and I was privileged to offer a eulogy at his funeral Mass.
By this point, my own life was spiraling. I was broke, unemployed, effectively homeless and clearly hopeless.
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An hour before delivering Ed's eulogy, I found myself pacing the train platform Brian last left from to go to New York . . . contemplating stepping in front of an oncoming train.
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Instead I delivered Ed's eulogy but had to leave immediately as I had an appointment in NYC for a PET/PSMA scan to stage, my now 3rd at-bat, with prostate cancer.Â
I then returned to my 'home', a teardrop trailer nestled in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey.
There, out of desperation I called the VA Suicide Hotline and was told: "I'm sorry. You're not in the system. We can't help you."