DANIEL, THE ROOFER
My nephew, Daniel, was a roof repairman who spent his days during the summer of '93 in the hot sun laying down hot asphalt sheets and coating them with even hotter tar. He became accustomed to working atop commercial buildings and being near high voltage wires that ran from pole to pole close to the buildings. So after a long day of work when his daughter told him that their cat couldn't get down off the roof, he thought nothing of climbing up and getting near some high voltage wires, which to him were more of a nuisance than a threat.
It had been another hot day, and so he decided his daughter and the cat could wait, until after he relaxed and knocked back a few suds. Whether, though, it was the beer or his being tired that made Daniel inattentive when he got up on the roof and then onto to a nearby electrical pole that the cat jumped onto, the many years of experience safely repairing roofs were gone. A bolt of electricity arched from a wire into Daniel's head killing him instantly. His passing was a sudden loss for everyone.
A few months prior to his passing we became, for the time, close. He confided in me that he was suicidal over his divorce, losing a lucrative job in Silicon Valley when the company moved overseas and having one day stuck a revolver in his mouth to end it but backed down.
Years later as I sat in my living room at 2 am, very loud noises of someone clearly stomping across the middle of my roof gave me a fright. The distinct heavy pounding of boots also caused me concern for what was left of my roof, because the roof was old and sometimes leaked badly when it rained, I didn't know whether it was its weakness that caused the turbulence, or a prankster that wanted to get my attention. But, as it turned out, it was neither.
It was a high roof with no access except by ladder. That night I was sitting quietly at my computer and would've heard anything outside, such as ladders going up and anyone climbing up. There was no way a robber could get in my home from the roof, and they wouldn't be stomping as though they were trying to break in via the roof. At 2 am in the morning it was very quiet outside, and I had on my living room lights.
It could have been nothing other than a ghost, but who's ghost and why wasn't clear at first, as the commotion upset and frightened me. It wasn't until I calmed down that I got the impression that it was my roof-repairman nephew telling me that he still existed and alerting me, with loud stomps, to fix the roof.