Even though there is no such thing AS WE KNOW IT as Death… I had to post this tribute of Wayne Dyer’s daughter Saje. If only, daughters, loved ones, EVERY son and daughter (in general) were brought up to KNOW from through their parents and through their inner self, that when a parent makes their transition to the non-physical, ALL IS WELL. The physical presence is bound to be missed. The parent, in all their energy of simply BEING, still exists.
My Dad would not have a wanted a funeral in which we all sat around in sadness and cried for him. Nor would he have wanted anyone to make a big fuss over his death. Death is just something that he did not believe in and he often stated that he didn’t “do” funerals. This why we have decided to call today a celebration of life and this is why I would like to mostly just share some of my recent fun memories with my father.
With my Dad, there was never a dull moment. He was the funniest and most entertaining person to be around. If he wasn’t going on an animated rant about GMO’s, gun control, or coffee enema’s, then he was making everyone around laugh with his sometimes perverted and inappropriate jokes. Being around him was almost addictive and his mood was contagious. I would wake up in the morning, put on work out clothes and say that I was going to go for a walk, but when I would get out into the living room around my Dad, it would end up being hours before I would actually get going.
In my mind I cannot even comprehend that he is gone. I am filled with images of him lifeless and of what his last moments would’ve been like. My heart aches in a way that I did not know it could. The tears flow from my eyes as I’m filled with the greatest sense of loss I have ever experienced. However amidst all of this chaos and turmoil that my mind insists I experience, I am reminded of so many of the ideas my Dad taught to me and to the world.
You see I was blessed to have been able to spend the last 3 weeks traveling through Australia and New Zealand with my Dad, my sister and her husband. In that time we shared so many laughs and we all grew even closer. My Dad insisted on rooms that could be conjoined and then he would help himself in entering our room at any time he pleased. He would wake us up every morning by coming in to our room singing “Oh what a beautiful morning, gosh what a beautiful day. I’ve got a wonderful feeling, everything’s going my way” on the top of his lungs while he proceeded to open the blinds and allow the sun to shine our eyes awake. One morning after he did his usual wake-up routine, he climbed into my bed, put his head on my shoulder and said “let’s take a selfie”. At other times he would call out my name while he did his famous coffee enemas, and he would yell “Quajey, I need you to come help me do my coffee” just because he knew I would say “Dad that is so gross I will not help you with your coffee”. My Dad was the light of any room he walked into, and this was true even in his last weeks of life.
While we were in Australia, I gave a little twenty-minute speech on stage with my Dad at each one of his talks. Before my Dad would bring me on stage, he always had a very unique and somewhat traumatizing way of introducing me. He would tell the story of my conception to the audience. His reason for telling this story was to convey to the audience that the odds were very highly stacked against me getting here because among other things he “withdrew” at the critical moment. Now as you can imagine, this caused me to go a little red in the face and stumble with my words for a few minutes. The first time he introduced me this way, I came up on stage, took the microphone and said “I specifically told him not to use the word ‘withdraw’ in his introduction and what do you know? That’s exactly what he did”. The second time he introduced me in this way, he proceeded to call me “withdraw” by saying “Please welcome to the stage, my youngest daughter, Withdraw Dyer”. So this became a little running joke between my Dad, the audience, and myself.
His very last text messages to me, two days before he left his body, are:
“I love you ‘withdraw’. I’m so happy you insisted on getting here. You really shine onstage. This is a trip none of us will ever forget. I love you infinitely. Dad”
I wrote back saying that I also loved the trip but that my name was NOT Withdraw, and then he said
“Withdraw is WD. Same initials as your daddy. On the plane now. Going seepy soon”
Besides all of the laughs and memories we made on this trip, I am so grateful that over these last 3 weeks in Australia and New Zealand, I had the privilege of hearing my Dad speak for over 21 hours on 5 different days. I can hear his words in my mind so clearly and it brings me so much comfort. On countless occasions over these 21 hours my Dad spoke of the beauty of death. He spoke of how he often envies those who have passed on to the infinite world of love. He spoke about the new book that he co-authored with Dee Garnes, “Memories of Heaven”, which relays numerous stories of children recalling their experience of heaven before they came to earth. He also stated that it is his belief that whenever you are confronted with the death of a loved one, you have the choice whether you get over your sadness “sooner or later”, and he said, “I always tell people, and myself, to choose sooner”. I even had the gift of hearing Anita Moorjani speak about her experience of temporarily crossing over to what she referred to as ‘the other realm’ and how it was a timeless and endless realm filled with infinite love and all knowingness. Needless to say, I left this experience with a shift in my perception of death. Which is why I stated before, that amiss this great chaos and turmoil that my mind insists I experience, I am reminded of so many of the ideas my Dad taught me. My Dad has taught me that we are not our bodies nor are we our minds. There is a part of us that is infinite and that is pure love and that is who we truly are. Now while I am still a person with a body and a mind, I am not able to abandon the deepest sadness that I have ever felt in my life. However when I get still and am able to hold my sobs back for a moment or two, I am comforted in an unexplainable way because I just simply know that my Dad is now apart of this infinite world that he so ferociously studied and taught about.
There are just a couple funny things about my Dad that a lot of you probably don’t know that I would like to share.
Whenever any of us was in Maui and he had to leave town, meaning we were staying there without him, he would leave the most explicit directions on how to care for his plants. These directions of course stated the obvious- water them, sunlight etc. However he would go on to insist that we must talk to his plants for at least 10 minutes each day and we must say goodnight to them and tell them we love them before going to bed. And I’ll tell you something- these were some of the healthiest plants I’ve ever seen.
Also, whenever an ant, mosquito, cockroach, fly, lizard etc. came into the condo- which happened quite frequently since he almost never closed his doors or ran the AC, he would stop everyone and say “don’t you dare kill that critter, he or she is my friend and this is not a funeral home” and we would simply have to get comfortable living with his ‘friends’ in our home.
In conclusion – my Dad has left this earthly plane at a very unexpected time for me. Having just been with him for so long makes it even harder to fathom that someone who was just so alive and full of excitement for life has passed on to the next adventure. But I know it was his time and that this is exactly the way he would’ve wanted to go. I will miss him more than I could ever explain, but his legacy is left with us, his 8 children, and our children and so on. I love you Dad and I know that you walk beside me now at all times. With love, your baby, Saje aka “withdraw”
“If you knew who walked beside you at all times, on the path that you have chosen, you could never experience fear or doubt again” – A Course in Miracles
Dad, I know you walk beside me and it brings me so much comfort.