I knew Shaddy well, this boy of wild beats and eyes of glittering black sand. I met him in the deli where he worked, on the corner of my street. A place of sanctuary and avo toastie chatter. A place of coffee bean sears and summer table cheer.
It was always smiles when Shaddy was around - his energy was infectious. Come sleet or rain he always found the joy in life. We’d laugh about the area, Nappy Valley, nestled between two Commons and bursting with buggies and old buggers. Cherry tree lined hills of Victorian terraces alive with the wisps of Windrushers and the bleary squall of new parents.
Shaddy would always make time for you. He would always be interested - never griping or sniping - never speaking of the heavy hand life had dealt him.
Over the years I was gifted the tendrils of his life - baby fathered, foster cared, a tumbleweed of addict ghosts. There were times he would simply disappear only to re-emerge with tall tales and an energy that would always fill your heart. His eyes truly glittered. An old soul possessed of the tribulations of his current incarnation.
One Sunday summer eve my son and I were ambling Clapham Common and we came across Shaddy outside a music festival with a husky - the air a haze of maryjane and mellifluous beats. My son was smitten with huskies, their steal blue eyes reflecting his own, their wolfishness, a glimpse of the wild we have sought to tame. Shaddy knelt down and guided my son in how to speak to the dog - how to win their trust and loyalty, how to command their respect. I shall never forget the time he took and the words he said, for in them lay the shining soul of a magical being.
‘The husky is closest to the wolf.’ he beamed, ‘He reminds us that even when the world tries to tame us, we will always be wild at heart.’
Shaddy died yesterday - his light taken long before his time, but how brightly he shone amidst a stormy sky.
A podcast soundscape of this story is available wherever you cherish your voices ❤️🙏🏼.