Scars, Growth, and the Quiet Work of Grief

There are wounds that never return to smooth skin.

They scab, they itch, they pull at us in quiet moments. We resist the urge to pick, yet we cannot ignore the reminder.

Grief is like this.

It doesn’t heal into “better.” It becomes part of us - a tender scar that changes our texture.

And yet, alongside the brokenness, there is growth. New shoots curling through the cracks. A different shape, but still alive, still reaching toward the light.

We do not need to rush to “be healed.”

We can learn to live with the scar, to honour its story, and to let the newness grow around it.

This is what ritual offers us - a pause in the itching stage, a place to sit with what is tender, and a reminder that brokenness and newness can coexist.

Grief does not need fixing. It asks only to be witnessed, to be given space, and to be met with gentleness. Rituals create that space. They slow us down, remind us we are not alone, and help us trace both the ache and the aliveness of our grief.

Perhaps you carry a scar that still pulls at you in quiet moments. Maybe you’ve wondered if you should be “over it” by now. This is your reminder: scars tell stories, and yours is still unfolding.

If you’re ready to pause with your grief, to honour your scar and invite new shoots of life, i'd like to invite you to join me in a personal grief ritual.