Daddy

18 years today. It is the Anniversary of my Dad's death.
I find myself overwhelmingly sad.
My souls remember better than my mind.
It is the strangest phenomena when this time of year rolls around and I find myself questioning my mood. Then my head catches up with my spirit and I again mourn my Father's passing. His physical presence that I do not get to experience today.
Time does not heal wounds. That sentiment has not proven true in my case. I must disappoint those possibly more optimistic than I or those looking for comfort in their own life's trial, perhaps needing the right words in hopes of comforting another.
I suppose there may be further meaning in a statement such as this--'time healing all wounds.' Perhaps the deeper meaning is that time's passing has in fact laid a scab over top, a discolored, bumpy, ragged edged covering. One of which can peel off and bleed, be exposed and cause pain and one that may also be covered by a shirt sleeve, go unnoticed without causing an overwhelming inhibition to continue.
Today my hurt lies exposed and I miss my Daddy.
Perhaps tomorrow I'll put on a band-aid.