D-day. Departure day.

We roused ourselves as soon as we could, wanting to make the most of our last hours together. I could have just stayed in bed at his side forever, looking into his eyes or watching him sleep.

Breakfast at the Pancake House. More walking through some malls, just holding hands and window-shopping. We wanted to delay the inevitable as much as we could.

In a tiny little shop I found some Manitoba shirts. I bought one for my mom, and Dave got one for me. I'm wearing it as I write this. It's a beautiful navy blue weave, with a tartan "M" on the breast, under an embroidered "Manitoba."

I miss him so much.

We got to the airport and I checked in. The lady at the ticket counter told me that my flight was going to be a little late taking off, but that it wouldn't affect my transfer in Toronto. I didn't mind in the least, since it gave me a few, precious last moments with Dave.

We were both a little at a loss for words.

I kept drying my tears on my sleeve, recovering for the moment. Until I looked at him again, and the tears would fall once more. I was sad the night before. I was frantic in those last few moments, just looking at him and wondering how I could express how I felt about him. Surrounded by strangers, we hugged and kissed for the last time at the gate. I ran my hand down his check, teasing him about the scrubby feel he had acquired.

I finally had to go before I started bawling. I walked to the security checkpoint. Oh, how I wanted to turn around and blow him one last kiss before I stepped behind those etched glass walls. But I knew that if I turned around I would start crying and wouldn't be able to stop.

I boarded my plane.

The flight back was crowded. They showed the same movie I had seen coming up to Winnipeg, and since I had an aisle seat and couldn't see out the window, I spent most of my time staring into space. Remembering. Trying to recall every last detail of our time together.

My plane landed late. In half an hour, I needed to deplane, get my bags, go through customs, check my luggage again, go downstairs, board a bus, ride across the terminal, and catch my next flight.

By the time I was getting my bags off the carousel to prepare to go through customs, my connecting flight had left. They booked me on the next (and last!) flight to Cleveland. I called my mother and told her I would be late getting in. My father had already left for the airport, but she said she would relay the message if he called.

And so I waited. Waiting was not a Good Thing for me in my current state of mind. I went into the restroom, locked myself into a stall, and had a good cry. I felt better until I spilled a cup of coffee all down the front of my shirt.

Two hours to kill. I wrote. It was in the moment, train of thought stuff. The sort of writing you read the next day, and can recall exactly how you felt at the time you wrote it. I wrote:

My god, Dave, I miss you I miss you ImissyouImissyouImissyouImissyou. I have never felt so lonely in my entire life as I do sitting here, alone, listening to planes coming and going, thinking about you. The way your mouth gets thin when you look at me, and I kiss your nose, and you smile. Your eyes - shot through with blues and grays. You know how I feel about your eyes. The way you stroke my hair and bury your face in my shoulder, and hold me tight against you. Every time I think about you, I am overwhelmed by love for you, and a giddy sense of happiness; and torn by an aching sadness that you are so far from me. As much as I miss you, I love you more. Every day I wish for that moment when we are together again, and when we are together I wish for the moment to last forever.

Transcribing this now, I see stains on the paper where my tears had fallen.

My plane was called, I boarded, and I left Toronto. The flight back was on a little prop-plane, which was a little scary and bumpy. But I arrived. I met my father (who had finally called home to discover what happened to me). He drove me home and dropped me off. I thanked him.

But none of that mattered, because my time with Dave had ended. The next time we see each other will be a long time in coming. He is out of vacation time, and we are both out of money.

I have never felt this empty.