Today is the 11th anniversary of Leo's death. He died at age 49 on my dad's 90th birthday. Dad passed away three weeks later, in the early morning on Labor Day.
It still hurts, but most of the time now it's OK. Now, more often than not, I remain dry-eyed when the Norfolk Southern freight trains go by. I still can't hear some songs without crying, and today will be still be difficult - although I'll be busy enough at work that I'll be able to get through that all right. For catharsis tonight, I will take out the packet of greeting cards from Leo that I saved over the short ten years that we were together, and read them all, and have a really good cry.
Tomorrow is my day off, so I'm heading to Altoona to have lunch with Nancy before she goes to work; I'll stop by the Railroaders Memorial Hall to see the little name plaque that I bought for him, and then go to the cemetery in Lilly and spend some time. The weather is supposed to be gorgeous, which actually makes things harder...it makes me think of the days when we would drop the chores and go spend some time exploring the back roads on the Yamaha or the Harley.
I don't compare other men I meet to Leo, because for me he was unique. We were so well matched for each other, and I'm not expecting to meet anyone quite like that again...but damn it, I'd really like to meet someone compatible for the long haul. I have a hell of a lot to bring to the table.
Sigh.
End of pity post. Onward and upward.
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