Say His Name, Say His Name…Wayson Choy

This past Saturday was the 5th year anniversary of the passing of Canadian Literary icon Wayson Choy. I’m sure everyone who knew him gave a few minutes of contemplation over to Wayson this weekend. Wayson was just that kind of guy. He made you feel special, like you were the only one.

Over the years in which I was fortunate enough to know Wayson, he imparted so much wisdom onto me…and he gave it freely and without expectation.

Every time I saw Wayson, he had something valuable to say. And he was one of those people who stopped the world around you when he spoke to you, just long enough for his words to sink in. His words came through without static…his natural ability to focus became a part of you while you were within his orbit. He slowed you down and then he gave you his gift. It was a bit mesmerizing, really…

I don’t know how to say it. Think of those creatures that have the ability to paralyze their prey with a cocktail of toxins prior to going in for the deadly blow…BUT in a good way. His demeanor would calm you to the point where you’d be sent to this zen-like space—and then he would move in for the final attack…WITH WISDOM!

Don’t get your panties in a knot. I’m certainly not saying that Wayson was like a cone snail, with their hypodermic needle tooth sending paralyzing venom into your veins. Not my intention at all. My intention is to say that Wayson was my Buddha. My calm place. He had an uncanny ability to put people into that place where they should always live…contentment.

Whenever he could, Wayson would give me actual writing advice specific to whatever hurdles I was facing at the time of our meeting. He had a way of peeling away the detritus and getting right to the point. And he would never let me wallow and seesaw about things. It was hard advice lovingly delivered.

After a near-death experience, Wayson decided to write a memoir and it is one of the most beautiful memoirs I’ve ever read. NOT YET. He wasn’t ready to leave the beauty of this world behind…he fought to continue and he survived. Do yourself a favour and read this gem…

Anyway, today’s post is just to say his name. When you are in the memory of those you have left behind, you are still alive in them. Maybe today is a good time to think about Wayson and how his gentle nature impacted your life.

There was something of the dickens in Wayson, and we all knew it. Take his book, ALL THAT MATTERS. What a great line to work into a dedication when book signing, right? He’d work that title into every signature…and we would walk away with our copy, hugging it to our chests thinking, “Oh my God, that’s so sweet! Wayson said that I was what matters!” And he’d give a bit of a rascally wink when handing back your copy. Only later, would we all realize we all received the ‘you matter‘ treatment in one form or another above his signature.

The deep truth of all those signings, though, and I’m sure you see it coming—is that we all did actually matter to Wayson. He meant the You Matter, You’re what Matters, You are All that Matters words he jotted down. It was okay that we compared notes, because he was sincere every time he wrote the words. He was present each time, singularly focused on the one person he was book signing for…pure Wayson.

Wayson was no angel, but he was an exemplary example of how humans could live their everyday lives. Make friends and take no hostages. Was it Bill & Ted who said, BE EXCELLENT TO EACH OTHER? Perhaps Wayson was just a fan who took those words to heart and lived them every day.

Keep resting in peace, Wayson. We’ll continue to say your name.