They say, time will make this easier.
They say, time will heal my wounds.
But, I'm not so sure I believe them.
For me, life has only become harder-
The farther away from my father's passing I go.
The longer I travel this lonesome highway,
Is one minute, one hour, one day, one week-
I stray away from him.
From the moments he was alive.
Every mile I trek down this road,
Is another on the map of being distanced from-
What I wouldn't give for a release from this pain.
But, if it hurting less-
Means forgetting him more,
I will pack up this pain-
And store it someplace safe.
I will gladly carry it with me,
For the rest of my years-
Because to forget is incomprehensible.
But, I feel it happening-
Now, even this soon.
I struggle to remember every ounce,
Of who he was-
While, at the same time,
I grapple with the pain that led me here.