I am wearing a new bracelet In loving memory Lynda and Alan McAnsh. My parents and my greatest mentors, friends and supporters.
It is simple. Black. Quiet.
Engraved with the words:
In loving memory
Lynda
Alan
McAnsh
Mum & Dad xxxxxxx
I did not buy it to make a statement. I wear it as a reminder. A reminder of who shaped me long before life tested me in ways I never expected.
I miss my parents deeply. That feeling does not fade. It just changes shape. This bracelet is not about grief. It is about legacy.
My Parents Were My First Mentors
Long before titles, careers, or speaking stages, my parents were my mentors in the truest sense of the word.
Not formal mentors. Real ones. The kind who shape your character quietly, daily, often without realising they are doing it.
They taught me how to live, how to treat people, and how to own my choices.
My Dad: The Fixer
My dad was a fixer. If something was broken, he believed it could be sorted.
- Sometimes with tools.
- Sometimes with stubborn determination.
- Sometimes, with a fair amount of frustration and blaming the government for absolutely everything.
He was blunt. Direct. Straight to the point. There was no sugar coating. If you were wrong, you knew about it. If you needed to toughen up, he would tell you. But behind that bluntness was a solid moral compass.
- You take responsibility.
- You stand by your word.
- You know right from wrong.
- And you treat people fairly.
Not because it benefits you, but because it is the right thing to do.
My Mum: The Advisor
My mum played a very different role. Where my dad fixed, my mum advised.
Where my dad charged ahead, my mum paused.
- She was honest, sometimes uncomfortably so, but always empathetic.
- She listened properly. She helped you reflect rather than react. She had a way of telling you the truth without stripping away your dignity.
- She taught me emotional intelligence before I knew what the phrase meant.
- She showed me that kindness is not weakness.
That honesty can be compassionate. And that understanding people matter just as much as being understood.
She also showed me, at times, how not to do things. And those lessons mattered just as much.
How They Shaped Who I Am Today
Between them, my parents shaped different parts of my character.
From my dad, I learned resilience, accountability, and backbone.
From my mum, I learned empathy, awareness, and perspective.
They did not get everything right. No parents do. But they modelled effort, integrity, and consistency.
They raised us to know the difference between right and wrong not as an idea, but as a way of living. They taught us to treat people with respect regardless of background, status, or circumstance.
That foundation matters.
Fair Treatment Was Taught, Not Triggered
People often assume that my belief in fairness and inclusion comes from my disability.
The experiences I have had since my paralysis are what created those values. The truth is, it goes far deeper than that.
My disability sharpened those values. It tested them. It exposed where systems and people fall short.
But it did not create them.
Those values were laid down years earlier. Around kitchen tables. In difficult conversations. Being called out when I got things wrong and supported when I tried to do better.
Fairness, honesty, and respect were not reactions to adversity.
They were part of my upbringing.
Why This Bracelet Matters
This bracelet is not just a memorial.
- It is a checkpoint.
- It reminds me to fix what I can.
- To listen when I should.
- To be honest without cruelty.
And empathetic without avoidance.
It reminds me why fair treatment of everyone sits so high on my values. Not because life became hard, but because I was raised to believe that how you treat people matters.
Especially when no one is watching.
I miss them every day.
And I carry them with me in everything I do and everything I am.