In celebration of scars

I've written before about my belief that scars can only heal when they're exposed to the light - but as ever that's not the whole truth of it. I've come to learn that some of our scars become the ley-lines of who we are, a road map of the soul. Some are the geological faults of our origins, some are the foundations of our redemption.

Today is the 10th anniversary of the day we said we'd try not to mention, unimaginably it was a decade ago today that Mum was killed, a moment non of us will ever escape. So often it feels like just yesterday.
It changed each of us in so many ways and whilst it's not my right to tell the tales of other people's journeys, I think we're all now more than we were before even though a huge part of us is gone.
At first I wrapped chain after chain around a burning box and tried to bury it deep in my long lost soul. I forged that box from anger, hate and rage, it was a thing of pain and regret. Thankfully though I eventually learnt that the strongest of all chains would be those made with love and happiness - but it's never as simple as a philosophical construct. It's impossible to carry that box and not, from faltering time to time, fall, to open it and look into the abyss. It's a heavy box - it makes some stronger, it sadly breaks others, and you can never truly know which you'll be until the burden is yours. The only real way I've found to carry it is to slowly let loose its contents, to find a way to make the unbearable at least tolerable, then hopefully manageable and maybe one-day winnable.
But the enduring gift of life is choice. Even when it seems there are non. Slowly over a decade made up of choices and moments, step by step, I like to think I've found the way I can be my best me, honour Mum's memory and find a peace with moving on.

I don't know when the idea of physically putting my scars on the outside first took shape, but I do know it's rattled round my subconscious for a goodly while. A recognition that love and light are the answer. A reminder for the inevitable dark and difficult days.
A decade ago I didn't think I'd ever be able to think of Mum and smile again. Now when I walk alone in the wonder I chatter to her, I see the twinkle in her eyes when the sunbeams dance, I hear the warmth of her laugh when the wind blows warm.
But,

In finding that love again I've found so much more.

From the very darkest places of what people can be, not just the manner of her death, but also the five viciously vindictive years that followed having to fight to remove her killer from our lives. To spend so long in the shadow of hate, to not know if you'll ever find your light again, to defer the chance of healing for so long, it takes a terrible toll. Yet miraculously from that something beautiful and unexpected emerged.
Slowly, step by step, I fell back in love with life again, with the great adventure of it all.
And it was you, whoever you may be, you reading this now.
It was you, it was my wonderful wife, my fantastic old friends, my fabulous new friends, the future friends I've yet to make . It was strangers on the trail, beautiful white dogs, daft silly puppies. Little old ladies fading away, bright roaring laughter gone too soon. Snapshots of people's lives given freely, kind words spoken with care. Moments spent listening, the joy of lifting someone up, the pleasure of giving what you've got to give.

I've thought long and hard about the power of words. Anybody reading this far will know I'm a believer in the deep magic to be found in the saying of a true thing. I've tried to live my latter life by the words of Martin Luther King and the hipster Lord Buckley - but when it came to it I simply couldn't countenance putting hate in any form on myself forever.
Love always wins.

For those of you who know me well - I was a very brave little soldier and even managed to comparatively enjoy the experience.