Jack came to us, unexpected and magnificent.

He was our third child, making our family complete with the pure joy that he bought to this life with him.

Jack grew into a little boy with an enormous heart and extraordinary capacity for love. He was always smiling, so easy-going, forgiving, empathic beyond his years, loving, and inclusive of everyone around him… he was the rapture in our days and in our hearts.

Exactly four and a half years later he was gone, and we would never again be able to hug him, kiss him, laugh with him, sing with him, dance with him, play with him, or watch him grow. We would never know who he would become, and we are left imagining all kinds of magnificent because he was just that…. magnificent.

Jack was just weeks away from his third birthday when he was diagnosed with JMML, a rare leukemia. The only treatment option was a stem cell transplant. Jack’s initial treatment (to hold off the cancer and to kill off his immune system) and the transplant took 7 months, and, in that time, we had 20 days at home, away from his isolation room in the hospital.

Those months in hospital were spent filling the hours with crafts, decorating the room, making and eating food, and playing games out of his bed to ensure Jack kept up his mobility and strength. We built train tracks, set up a “shop,” played dress-ups, board games, bowling, and building. Our only limitations in the simple hospital room that housed us were our imaginations. Even Jack’s failing little body did not stop him. He might have stopped to vomit or fall asleep during painting one of his masterpieces, but he always wanted to carry on, he always wanted to engage, and he did so with grace and energy beyond his years and capacity. 

Jack made the most of any given situation presented to him. He held a focus for purpose and a drive to find meaning like no one else I have ever met. It was during this time that he developed a love of watching Frozen. Jack grew to love the intricacies of the themes embedded in these movies as if they were embedded in his life. He introduced me to myself in that time, teaching me who I was, and he taught me more about love and life than lifetimes could. 

Jack made it home for Christmas 2020, and we were told he was in remission on New Year’s Eve. We spent the next few months endeavouring to live our lives as normally as we could, while having frequent visits to hospital for monitoring and any additional treatments.

But Jack relapsed in August 2021. A second stem cell donor match could not be found, and there were no further treatment options. It felt like a matter of weeks from the relapse diagnosis when Jack was released from the hospital to die at home.

Once home, Jack woke up one day looking better, and went from strength to strength. He fooled us into believing that he had a chance at survival. But his fragility was in stark contrast to this, and he took a sudden turn for the worse, after giving us 6 beautiful weeks more than expected.  He died at home, surrounded by love, on 18 November 2021. 

We went into this journey full of fear, but with hope driving us forward every day. We each sacrificed so much of ourselves in the journey of supporting Jack through treatment, and would do so again in a heartbeat.

Even on his death bed, Jack was all the things that he brought to this world – hopeful, authentic, loving, accepting, inclusive, emotional, present, kind, and honest. We miss him terribly.

We wanted to honour Jack in a meaningful way, which is why we have created Forever Four. He was always helping people, and we know he would be proud of us for honouring his memory by helping others. We noticed two gaps - one in stem cell awareness, and one in bereaved cancer family support - so decided to take those up as our way of remembering him and reflecting his magnificence.