After nearly 20 years working at my office, I experienced a “;first”; recently. Early one Friday morning, I drove up to our parking lot to find it full of police vehicles. Standing in the middle of the driveway was our company vice president, a petite woman looking even tinier surrounded by burly police officers. She was holding a cell phone to her ear with one hand and motioning at me to drive in with the other hand.

“;You may park in your regular stall, but just to let you know, the homeless man who sleeps in our lot passed away,”; she said. If the caffeine I drank had not kicked in, her pronouncement woke me up.

The homeless fellow had adopted our parking lot as his campsite. I only encountered him once or twice, as he was very good about clearing out when the first employee drove in before dawn. Sometimes he would oversleep, but when car headlights woke him up, he would silently pack his belongings and move on.

By the time I parked my car, the paramedics had arrived. I wondered why they hooked up a heart monitor and took a blood pressure reading from an obviously dead man. The full-rigor status was convincing enough, but I guess protocols must be observed. A couple of hours later, the coroner arrived to officially pronounce the man dead. Another hour or so passed before the morgue van came to whisk the man off to his final destination.

I OFTEN DISMISS the homeless people who wander the Moiliili area as an unsightly nuisance. In the past few years, their numbers increased dramatically when the city closed Ala Moana Park at night to discourage homeless camps. I admit to becoming annoyed when the Waikiki Health Center opened shop two doors down from our office and their homeless clientele used our parking lot as a toilet. (The center left after a few months.) But looking at the body of one of these forgotten souls made me realize they are human like the rest of us.

At one time this man was someone's baby. He may have been someone's brother or uncle or even husband and father. One of my co-workers said she had heard he was employed. Another said that she would say hi to him when she had to come to the office after hours.

It is sad that this man died alone on the cold, hard asphalt. No one was there to hold his hand as he took his last breath. No one shed tears when the last essence of life left his body. I'm sure this scenario plays out in our city every week. The remains of unattended deaths probably fill the city morgue. But getting an up-close look at such a tragedy makes you wonder: What happened to this man that brought him to this place and his ultimate demise? And how many more like him are on a similar path? There are no easy solutions and no quick answers.

Laurie Moore is communications officer at Hawaii Credit Union League. “;The Goddess Speaks”; is a feature by and about women. Essays of about 550 words may be sent to “;The Goddess Speaks,”; 7 Waterfront Plaza, Suite 210, Honolulu 96813; or e-mail .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address).