The Memory Lingers On

It seems impossible that a year has already passed since the world lost Wayne Dyer.

Turns out we didn’t lose him at all. Oh, his compostable container is long gone, but his wisdom and humour remain. His family has seen fit to continue updating his F***book page, delivering daily reminders and heartfelt affirmations culled from the impressive vault he compiled during his lifetime. Most mornings, Ter will rev up her device and I’ll say, “What’s Dr Wayne got for us today?”

There is always something. Sometimes it’s a repeat. Okay, it’s always a repeat, but sometimes I’ve never heard it before. It’s like he’s still with us.

I suppose it’s natural for a group of people who work together, but whenever someone in my office loses a loved one, a card does the rounds for everyone to sign. “Thinking of you and your family at this difficult time” is a popular sentiment. By the time a sympathy card reaches me, it’s been said a dozen times with different words, so how can what I say make a difference to the bereaved?

I’ve made it a practice to express condolences accordingly, but to add something hopeful for the future without a loved one in it. “We are never without those who live in our hearts.” “Keep good memories close to help you through your loss.” Things like that. I don’t know if it matters in the big picture, but I hope it puts a positive light on a painful loss.

Assuming it is a painful loss. Family dynamic aren’t the same with every clan. I have to be careful that I don’t offend—I was once scolded for suggesting in a wedding card that the bride keep a separate bank account—but my intention is never to cause harm or be disrespectful.

Of course loss must be recognized. Grief must be acknowledged in the moment. People are good at the immediate en masse, so I leave that to others and set my sights on a hopeful outcome down the road. Nothing lasts forever, right? Not life, not death, and, one hopes, not grief.

With love,