Goodbye Haren: Our hearts will miss you

For almost 30 years, the hardworking and fun loving Haren Wijeratne served the Sunday Times with determination and dedication despite a physical handicap and other health problems.

He retired about two years ago and worked as a freelance journalist and supplement coordinator. A few days ago, Haren was taken ill and warded at a Colombo hospital where he passed away on Friday evening at the age of 53. His funeral took place yesterday at the General Cemetery, Borella.

Haren joined us in 1993 as a sub editor but he showed a lot of interest in sports and was at one time the Assistant Sports Editor.

Kind hearted, gentle and everready to help others, Haren became the editorial coordinator for advertising supplements doing a wonderful job. He was a team player and worked long hours.

He leaves behind his wife Iresha, children Ashen, Matheesha and Ravindu.

He spent his last years as a devout Christian. God be with you Haren, till we meet again!

Throughout our professional lives, we often classify the people with whom we work and interact as colleagues. “A colleague of mine at office,” we say. It is a term that conveys the tenuousness of workplace bonds; relationships formed more out of necessitythan design, frequently buried in the sands of time. However, there have been a chosen few in my life who have made the leap from colleague to friend. Harendra Wijeratnewas among the best of them.

I first met Haren at the beginning of 2010. I had just entered my 20s and was suffused with too much confidence and too little wisdom. He had just entered his 40s and, despite being recently bled of this same youthful indiscretion, was prone to mischief, humour, and an unforgettable Muttley (Hanna-Barbera’s sniggering cartoon canine) laugh. We quickly bonded, both because of our collaboration within the Sunday Times — which he served diligently for decades as Assistant Sports Editor and Supplements Editor — and our shared tendency to squeeze a joke out of most situations.

I did a lot of my growing up at the Sunday Times and Haren was a big part of that. In a world where people are increasingly preoccupied with their own success and career progression, he took the time to offer me guidance.His advice ranged from work and friendship to women and booze.

Most importantly though, he showed me that life is less a bed of roses and more a thorny rose bush: you must reach and persevere past its many hardships to access its true beauty. He did this not through empty words but arduous action. Born with a debilitating physical condition, he told me that doctors had informed his parents that he would never be able to walk and would likely die young. But rather than feel defeated or indulge in self-pity, he refused to acknowledge the boundaries defined by those strangers in lab coats. For the first few years of his life, he pushed his body to its limits so that he could crawl. Then, he used his iron will to lift his frame off the ground and take his first steps.

For most people in his situation, that would have been enough. Not Haren though. He revealed to me that while growing up, he had fallen deeply in love with cars and that as a teenager he had promised himself that one day he would learn to drive. Despite most people telling him this was a foolhardy pursuit, he ignored their resistance and eventually made himself a very proficient driver. During our workplace chats, whenever the topic steered towards vehicles, he would often fawn over some sleek new model or express consternation over my ambivalence towards cars and driving.

While cars were his first love, they were not what he cherished deepest in this world. That title went to his beloved wife and three boys. They were also his most defining achievement and that which he was most proud of. He shouldered all the responsibility of married life and fatherhood with gratitude and joy, not taking for granted even the smallest moment he shared with his family.

As the years went by, he looked at the men his boys had become as the magnum opus of a life spent battling the odds. And oh, how he battled. For although the walls of his body were flawed and frail, they enshrined a perfect and mighty heart. A heart which summoned enormous courage to battle overwhelming adversity and yielded selfless love for family and friends. I will miss him greatly, for he was more than just a colleague. He was my friend. And he made me a better man. Rest easy with the angels, brother.