In Memory of James "JW" Wise
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One month ago today, November 11th, our everything, James L. Wise, passed away. To be fully honest, we are all still in shock and writing this feels surreal. When we sat down as a family to discuss how we would share the announcement with those who knew and loved him, we didn’t want to focus on his illness. However, the disease that took him was brutal. We saw it firsthand and lived it every day. He was misdiagnosed in April 2018, correctly diagnosed in July, and every day after that was filled with fears and anxieties.
Glioblastoma is an aggressive form of brain cancer. One neurologist put it bluntly — "it's the most malignant cancer known to man.” It's not genetic. It's about being "unlucky.” Hearing this was the first of many blows. We quickly learned there is currently no cure. Another blow. Following brain surgery, radiation therapy, and two rounds of chemotherapy, he was on a waiting list for a clinical trial.
Equally harsh to witnessing him battling this disease was seeing our mom endure the greatest of hardships: feeling completely helpless as her husband and best friend struggled with no solution in sight. Married for 49 years and working side-by-side for 32 years, they navigated life together as a unit. And that is exactly how she approached this disease. She stayed bedside for the 29 days he was hospitalized in July, was determined to bring him home, and was committed to transitioning the house they built into a safe environment for him to live. We focused on giving him the best quality of life for a terminal disease.
Anyone who knew our dad is aware of his tremendous depth and unshakable character. And anyone who knows our mom can attest to the pillar of strength that she is. Less discussed about their partnership is how deeply private they were. As a result, they never made public or shared what was going on or asked for help even throughout this fight when every possible resource was stretched and tested.
He passed away three days after his 72nd birthday, and just before Thanksgiving and the holiday season. She has endured something grueling and is now left to ask “how do I start to pick-up the pieces?”
As we grapple with all the streaming thoughts, feelings and emotions that come along with a loss so immeasurable, there is one element of clarity: it’s ok to ask for help. This is one of those moments.
We are all deeply grateful for everyone who has reached out and shared their beautiful sentiments and memories in honor of our dad. It has brought comfort, pride, and softness. To help our mom recover, we are asking for your help:
Please rally around her. She is 71 years old, a retired art teacher, and an innate giver. And right now she has entered her own private battle. An aching heart multiplied by fears and uncertainty. And a shadow of expenses that accompany a terminal disease. This is a cruel equation and simply put -- just too much.
“Thank you” falls far short of the deep appreciation we have for your honoring him and supporting her. Every gift made will go directly to her.
“We are (all) memories.” -- James L. Wise, May 18th, 2018
Glioblastoma is an aggressive form of brain cancer. One neurologist put it bluntly — "it's the most malignant cancer known to man.” It's not genetic. It's about being "unlucky.” Hearing this was the first of many blows. We quickly learned there is currently no cure. Another blow. Following brain surgery, radiation therapy, and two rounds of chemotherapy, he was on a waiting list for a clinical trial.
Equally harsh to witnessing him battling this disease was seeing our mom endure the greatest of hardships: feeling completely helpless as her husband and best friend struggled with no solution in sight. Married for 49 years and working side-by-side for 32 years, they navigated life together as a unit. And that is exactly how she approached this disease. She stayed bedside for the 29 days he was hospitalized in July, was determined to bring him home, and was committed to transitioning the house they built into a safe environment for him to live. We focused on giving him the best quality of life for a terminal disease.
Anyone who knew our dad is aware of his tremendous depth and unshakable character. And anyone who knows our mom can attest to the pillar of strength that she is. Less discussed about their partnership is how deeply private they were. As a result, they never made public or shared what was going on or asked for help even throughout this fight when every possible resource was stretched and tested.
He passed away three days after his 72nd birthday, and just before Thanksgiving and the holiday season. She has endured something grueling and is now left to ask “how do I start to pick-up the pieces?”
As we grapple with all the streaming thoughts, feelings and emotions that come along with a loss so immeasurable, there is one element of clarity: it’s ok to ask for help. This is one of those moments.
We are all deeply grateful for everyone who has reached out and shared their beautiful sentiments and memories in honor of our dad. It has brought comfort, pride, and softness. To help our mom recover, we are asking for your help:
Please rally around her. She is 71 years old, a retired art teacher, and an innate giver. And right now she has entered her own private battle. An aching heart multiplied by fears and uncertainty. And a shadow of expenses that accompany a terminal disease. This is a cruel equation and simply put -- just too much.
“Thank you” falls far short of the deep appreciation we have for your honoring him and supporting her. Every gift made will go directly to her.
“We are (all) memories.” -- James L. Wise, May 18th, 2018
Co-organizers (3)
Kristen Wise
Organizer
Brooklyn, NY
Linda Strathdee
Co-organizer
Mene Santana
Co-organizer