I’m David — a quiet soul, a writer, a father of six, and a widower learning to rebuild life after loss. In May 2023, my wife Clare passed away after a long and hidden battle with cancer. We were married for 28 years. Her absence echoes through the rhythm of my days — the empty chair, the quiet evenings, the missing conversations. Grief has not been a season, but a landscape I now inhabit.

Much of my writing is a way of sorting through the mess in my head — a kind of soul composting. I journal most mornings in a coffee shop in Sussex, England, where I live with my four children. My words are honest and vulnerable, shaped by the longings of someone seeking safety, belonging, and peace in a world that often feels fragmented.

I’m an introvert, sensitive to atmosphere and nuance. I tend to walk quietly through life, observing, reflecting, listening. I don’t do shallow well. I am more at home in slow conversations, in sacred silences, in spaces where it’s okay to not have all the answers.

I follow Jesus — not the angry, tribal version I grew up with, but the gentle Shepherd, the healer of hearts, the One who reveals the face of a kind Father. My faith has moved away from rigid evangelicalism toward something softer and more human — shaped by Orthodox theology, the early Church, and the earthy beauty of Celtic Christianity.

On Medium, I write about:

• The long road of grief and rebuilding

• Faith deconstruction and rediscovery

• The quiet ache of being misunderstood or unseen

• The healing journey through trauma and early wounding

• Inner child work, Transactional Analysis, and self-compassion

• The sacredness of small things — a walk, a prayer, a breath

I believe that words can be a healing companion. If mine walk alongside you in any way, I count that a gift.