BASED ON A TRUE STORY:
In 1989, Tommy Clifford passed away at the age of 20, and his former co-worker, Rick Ciccone, believed it was a suicide. Two years earlier, Tommy, a summer hire at a land surveying company, experienced the tragic death of his...
The elder Rick and Tommy's spirit stood in the main aisle at the offices of Vernon & Reese. While the draftsmen quietly went about their business at their respective drafting tables, Ken Turner was sitting at a drafting table in the corner, tapping on a calculator, adjusting the calculations in his field notes.
Rich Collins and his crew had arrived a moment earlier and began putting their equipment in the hall closet. While Rich took a seat at the spare drafting table, Don Canning ducked into the men's bathroom. Young Rick Ciccone walked up to Ken Turner. "Hey, K.T."
"Hey, Rage. How was Cliffy today?" He asked softly.
Rick looked up. Tommy had taken a seat at a stool next to Rich Collins at the spare drafting table. He leaned forward, hands folded, and watched Rich Collins review his notes, although it was clear by his mournful look, the deaths of Chip and Danny were fresh on his mind, as well as his own mortality.
"He did a good job. Worked hard, but he was really down."
"Maybe work is what he needs." Ken Turner concluded.
"I'd like to call him later tonight to see how he's doing, just to check up on him."
"That's a good idea." Ken flipped through his field notes. He showed the number to Rick, who grabbed a piece of paper and pencil and scribbled Tommy's phone number across it.
****
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While young Rick Ciccone sat at the kitchen table at his parents' home making a phone call - he'd not yet moved in with Rachele - the elder Rick and Tommy's spirit sat at the table with him, and observed. Someone on the other line had answered, "Hello. Is Tommy there?" Rick inquired.
Tommy's father, Tom Clifford, Sr., was in his middle 40s at the time. Like Tommy, he had a lean and athletic look about him -- he could be your gym teacher. "Who is calling?" the elder Clifford asked.
"I'm Rick Ciccone. I work with Tommy at Vernon & Reese."
"Hold on."
Before Tommy's father could put down the phone, Rick blurted aloud into the phone, stopping him. "Mr. Clifford! Before you get him, uh," he paused with a sigh. "I'm calling because I'm worried about him."
"How come?"
"I worked with Tommy today," Rick explained. "He was really down."
"Well, his friends were killed over the weekend." The elder Clifford responded, unaware that Rick already knew this.
"I know that." Rick continued. "I was showing him the job site and when we got done. Tommy got quiet, then told me what happened. He told me he was supposed to be in the car. I knew he was supposed to go on that trip. The way he said it worries me."
"How did he sound?"
"Guilty. And he looked it. I just wanted to call to make sure he's okay."
"I see." Tommy's father said, rubbing his neck. "I'll check on him. Rick? Thank you for looking out for him."
"Anytime." Rick replied. They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Tom, Sr. headed up the flight of steps and towards Tommy's room. The door was slightly open. He found Tommy sitting at his desk, staring at an empty piece of paper in a loose-leaf binder. The elder Clifford walked in. Tommy was wearing a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. His curly brown hair was damp. He'd just showered.
The elder Rick Ciccone and Tommy's Spirit sat on the bed and looked on.
"You okay?" Tommy's father asked.
"Yeah." Tommy responded, a crack in his voice.
"You're sure?"
"I'm fine."
The elder Rick glanced over at Tommy's Spirit, who was smiling, reveling in the exchange. Tommy and his father had a great relationship on the earth plane. In spirit, he'd often send him small signs - a scent, a song, or a joke they shared that'd pop in Tom, Sr.'s head once in a while. It was Tommy's way of saying, "Hello."
Even though this was all fantasy to Rick, it didn't matter to him. Rick envied what he was watching.
"Rick from work called." Tom, Sr. said.
"I told you about him. He's the wrestler. Lifts manhole covers."
"He's worried about you. Said you were a little off today."
"Dad, I'm okay."
"We all understand -"
"Really, dad, I'm okay," Tommy interrupted.
There was an awkward silence. Tom, Sr. felt helpless. He knew his son was not okay. Tommy glanced at the notebook.
"I gotta get started on this."
"Well... I'm here." Tom, Sr. turned to walk away. He stopped. "You know, you're lucky you weren't in that car." It came out much better than the way Rick would have said it.
The elder Rick turned to Tommy's spirit, astonished. Tommy's spirit shrugged it off.
Tommy's father rubbed Tommy's shoulders and kissed him on the top of his head. He patted him on the back, then left the room. Tommy looked over his shoulder to make sure his father had left the room. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. He wiped away a tear with the palm of his hand. He sniffled, then turned his attention to the notebook on his desk. He printed a heading in big bold print at the top of the page - "EULOGY".
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The elder Rick stood over Tommy and read what he wrote. Tommy's spirit stood next to him. "Does this make you feel better?" He asked.
"Not really."
"Of course not. You never needed to do this in the first place. Do you understand? I had my father and my mother to lean on." He paused. He could see this was not helping Rick. "What else?"
