Still his Savior

Tommy stumbled into his bathroom, exhausted after another grueling shift. The house was so empty since Janet and the kids moved out. He wasn’t sure if sleep or the bottle was going to win out but he knew one or the other would overtake him shortly.
He sighed and wondered, for probably the millionth time, if the emptiness in his soul would ever leave him. He stripped his clothes off and stepped into the shower.
As the hot water poured over him he thought “God it has been almost three years now.” Three years since his world came crashing in around him, literally as well as figuratively.
He came out of the shower, wrapping his worn terry robe around him. He loved this robe, it had been a birthday gift from Janet and the kids, given to him just a few weeks before the towers fell. When he was wrapped in it he could almost pretend that 9-11 never happened. He could pretend that he still had optimism and hope. Most of all he could pretend Jimmy was still alive.
Jimmy, his cousin, had been just two years younger then him. Certainly a sweeter, softer version of himself, in a way Jimmy had been more Tommy’s better half then Janet had ever been. Tommy and Jimmy grew up together, all the way from the playground to the fire academy. They had shared childhood pranks, struggles with girlfriends, been the best man at each other’s wedding.
Even amongst the tight family of the firehouse, Jimmy and Tommy’s bond had been special. They always had each others back. But sometimes it seemed even deeper then that. They finished each other’s sentences. They always knew what the other was thinking without saying a word. Tommy could count on his cousin to make him laugh and lift his spirits no matter what tragedy and sadness occurred on the job.
And on that horrible day, when every American’s life was forever altered, Tommy was dealt the most crushing blow of his life. The man he had been joined at the hip with for most of his existence had simply disappeared under the burning rubble.
In the hours following the terrorist attack Tommy had alternately prayed, cried, waited, and searched along with his fellow firefighters for fallen comrades. As more and more dark hours passed, it became more obvious that his cousin was gone.
Tommy shut his eyes to try and stop the images that replayed in his mind, like a horror movie. Sleep, God he needed it so much. He locked his door and turned the lights off in the house. Tommy pulled a bottle and a glass out of the liquor cabinet, carried it up to his bedroom, sitting it down on the nightstand. He would pour himself a glass, or two, or three, however many it took for him to stay comatose throughout the night. God he hated sleeping alone. Worst of all tomorrow started his weekend off. Weekends he used to spend with his wife and children, his cousin and his family. Now it was just a long stretch of liquor, boredom and sadness.
Tommy lay down on the bed, struggling to control the tears that threatened to flow. He bottled so much up. Raised in such a tough, blue collar, Irish environment, emotions were just not something that men expressed. So instead he railed against God, “Why Jimmy, why did he have to die, he played by all the rules. Why not some crack head? Didn’t what ever Supreme Being who ruled the universe realize he could not make it without Jimmy.” A sob over took him, and he was unable to stop the tears from falling out of his eyes. “Jimmy”, he whispered his cousin’s name over and over.
“T’ don’t cry I’m here. I am right here next to you.” A soft voice came from beside him.
Tommy jumped thinking he must be loosing his mind. “It’s alright, don’t be scared,”
Jimmy’s voice again cut into Tommy’s thoughts and he felt a warm presence on the bed next to him.” I really am going completely nuts”, Tommy said to himself as he rolled over.” “Oh God,” he whispered as he looked directly into his cousins face. “I missed you T “, Jimmy said, as he squeezed his cousin’s hand.