James Andrew Stojack
Sep 24, 1995 - Aug 20, 2017
James = supplanter, to take over, trip up or overthrow
Andrew = strong and courageous
James Andrew Stojack, age 21, passed away at 7:20 PM, Sunday, August 20, 2017 at University of Washington Medical Center in Seattle, WA due to complications during his second heart transplant surgery. He was born at 10:45 AM on September 24, 1995 at St. Joseph Hospital in Tacoma, WA and spent his childhood in Port Orchard, WA. At the age of 17, James moved to his own apartment on Capitol Hill, making Seattle, WA his home. James is lovingly remembered by his three parents: Debra Stojack (mom), Donald Stojack (dad), Stephanie Charbonneau (stepmom); five siblings: Greg, Mike, Rebecca, Tyler and Olivia; and numerous other family members, coworkers, teachers and friends.
James was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS) and had three open heart surgeries at Children’s Hospital in Seattle as a baby (Norwood at 3 days old, Glenn at 6 months old, Fontan at 18 months old). He never let his medical condition slow him down – always remaining focused, driven, hardworking and passionate about his pursuits.
James was never quite satisfied with school – starting out being homeschooled, he then attended Mullenix Ridge Elementary (Port Orchard), Explorer Academy (homeschool program in Port Orchard), John Sedgewick Junior High (Port Orchard), Explorer Academy (again), Peninsula High School (Gig Harbor) and West Sound Tech (culinary program) before earning his GED at the age of 16 so he could get out into the working world.
James loved babies and children. He was excited to become a big brother at the age of 11 when Tyler was born – and again at the age of 14 when Olivia was born. He regularly babysat his younger siblings when they were babies, while his dad and stepmom taught music lessons – often reading cookbooks aloud until they fell asleep. Now that they are older, Tyler and Olivia have many fond memories of playing board games, lightsabers and nerf gun battles with James – and going on special one-on-one “coffee dates” with their brother.
James was born a musician. He grew up singing in community choirs and attending choir camps directed by his dad and stepmom and accompanied by his mom. At age 12, James sang in Carnegie Hall with Cappella Choirs. At age 13, he toured to Costa Rica as a member of the Bellevue Presbyterian Bel Canto Youth Choir. He also took piano, drum and guitar lessons. Guitar became his primary musical focus as he got older. James even performed each Saturday (as a young teen) at the Port Orchard Farmer’s Market to earn money for a new guitar, and then his first car (a green Jeep).
James had a passion for cooking from the time he was young – even as a kid, he loved making chicken noodle soup and stir fry (often talking about how his dad’s stir fry helped inspire his love of cooking) – and always begged to go out to eat (since he loved everything about restaurants and quality food). James got his first official job as a dishwasher at Green House Restaurant in Gig Harbor at age 16. He told them upfront that he was willing to be their best dishwasher ever, but that his goal was to become a cook. And the owner and staff agreed to let him help with food prep anytime he had the dishes done. James learned on the job – going from dishwasher to line cook during his 18 months working at Green House. By the time he left, he was working the sauté and grill stations.
From the age of 12, James always dreamed of living in a big city and working in the best restaurants. In May 2013 (age 17) he started taking the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle, walking around the city, applying to numerous restaurants. He was offered several positions and began working right away at Café Presse, then added Marché and eventually Altura and Lark. He continued commuting from Port Orchard to Seattle until he rented his first apartment on Capitol Hill in September 2013 (just before turning 18 years old). James flourished in Seattle – making numerous, quality friends through his cooking and restaurant connections. He loved his life in the city (but he still came home to Port Orchard frequently to visit).
In summer of 2014, James came down with mono, then recovered and relapsed – ending up hospitalized at University of Washington Medical Center and near death in October 2014 (just after turning 19) with HLH (Hemophagocytic Lymphohistiocytosis) - a life-threatening immunodeficiency. We were told he would not survive - the HLH was causing James’ body to attack itself and all of his organs began shutting down. The doctors did all they could, thinking it wouldn’t be enough (bone marrow tests, surgically implanting a heart pump and running dialysis). James lost all sensation to his extremities and ended up with a month long hospital stay, chemo treatments (to shock the immune system back into balance) and months of home recovery back in Port Orchard. But he not only survived – he thrived for another three years. Throughout this process, James brought our family back together – gathering all of his siblings, parents and friends together for Thanksgiving 2014. It was a monumental occasion. James also had to relearn how to use his fingers, play guitar and hold his cooking knives all over again (once his nerves recovered). It was frustrating – but he persevered, spending many long nights building Lego structures (to strengthen his finger muscles and get them working again) and doing as much cooking as possible…even adapting the way he held his knives until he could resume a more “normal” way of handling them.
The HLH left his heart weakened and his medical team at UW began planning right away to get him listed for a heart transplant. His family had no idea this would be a full three year process. Throughout this time, James rebuilt his strength and got back to working full time (40-60 hours a week on his feet as a line cook). He also had three years of numerous regular doctor appointments, occasional hospitalizations or trips to the ER for IV fluids and diligently checking every last item off their very long list to get approved to be officially listed. Finally, in April 2017 he got the news they had listed him for heart transplant. As part of the agreement to be listed for transplant, James had to stop working to let his body “rest” leading up to the transplant. He had many goals including a job offer lined up at Spinasse for post-transplant – even though he really wanted to start working there sooner. James also started dating his sweet girlfriend, Mauri, in fall 2016 – and she stayed by his side throughout all of his recent hospitalizations and both transplant surgeries. James had never been happier then with Mauri by his side.
James’ heart continued to weaken and he ended up hospitalized for 3 weeks from July-August 2017 as they experimented with different heart medications, trying to find the best one to help him feel good while waiting for a heart. He was released from the hospital on 8/7/17 and went home wearing a life vest (to shock his heart should it stop) and a medicine pump bag. During a follow up appointment on Friday, 8/11/17 they gave James the big news – a heart had been found! He was told he could go home for the night and return the next day to check in. His heart transplant surgery would take place Sunday morning.
James spent Saturday, 8/12/17 with his mom and girlfriend – and visiting with his best friend in Port Orchard. Then he checked in to the hospital that afternoon, had visits from more close friends, a final pizza dinner and spent the evening being surrounded by his siblings, parents and girlfriend for a pre-transplant “party”…he played Stratego with Olivia, snuggled and chatted with Tyler and we took lots and lots of pictures with everyone. Late that night, we all found various sleeping spots in waiting rooms nearby and James went to sleep listening to his special pre=-planned “heart transplant playlist”.
The entire family woke early Sunday morning – transplant day! 8/13/17 We hung out in James’ room again as he danced around the room with his IV pole, waiting to be taken into surgery.
James went bravely into surgery – expressing no fear. He received the gift of his first heart. The surgery lasted 10 hours. The medical team ended up needing to do lots of reconstructive work including rebuilding James’ aorta from polyester material when they discovered it was completely calcified and chipping away when they tried to connect to it. They had started out with two heart surgeons (one from Children’s and one from UW) – but called in a third to assist. The head surgeon said that a number of times throughout the day they thought they were out of options – then they got creative and found a solution, moving forward. The new heart was out of body for 4.5 hours and never beat correctly. They kept James on ECMO all week – initially hoping the new heart might kick back into gear, but then changing paths and deciding to relist him for a second heart. It’s rare to receive a second heart – especially so quickly. He was kept intubated and on pain medications all week, but they woke him several times daily to check brain function. He would squeeze our hands, gesture slightly and raise eyebrows, but was unable to speak because of the breathing tube.
On Saturday 8/19/17 we got the news again – they had found a second heart that matched James!
On Sunday, 8/20/17 James had his second heart transplant surgery. We were elated when we heard that this new heart was in and working! But then a portion of his bowels were found to have died, causing severe levels of toxins in the blood. His ICU nurse, Leo, was called into surgery room to start dialysis and they ran the machine at top levels – but it wasn’t enough to help. They also called in another specialist who removed the dead portion of the intestine. We received several updates letting us know how dire the situation was and that they didn’t think James would survive. One of James’ favorite doctors – Dr. Karen Stout, was in the surgery room with him, along with Nurse Leo and a strong medical team of experienced doctors. They were able to stabilized James enough to bring him back up to his room to be with us until he officially passed.
James Andrew Stojack passed on Sunday, August 20, 2017 at 7:20 PM. Thank-you James for your warrior spirit, your never quit attitude, your perseverance, your push it to the limits, your bringing us all together, your cooking, your music, your laughter, your friendship. We all LOVE YOU.
James was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS) and had three open heart surgeries at Children’s Hospital in Seattle as a baby (Norwood at 3 days old, Glenn at 6 months old, Fontan at 18 months old). He never let his medical condition slow him down – always remaining focused, driven, hardworking and passionate about his pursuits.
James was never quite satisfied with school – starting out being homeschooled, he then attended Mullenix Ridge Elementary (Port Orchard), Explorer Academy (homeschool program in Port Orchard), John Sedgewick Junior High (Port Orchard), Explorer Academy (again), Peninsula High School (Gig Harbor) and West Sound Tech (culinary program) before earning his GED at the age of 16 so he could get out into the working world.
James loved babies and children. He was excited to become a big brother at the age of 11 when Tyler was born – and again at the age of 14 when Olivia was born. He regularly babysat his younger siblings when they were babies, while his dad and stepmom taught music lessons – often reading cookbooks aloud until they fell asleep. Now that they are older, Tyler and Olivia have many fond memories of playing board games, lightsabers and nerf gun battles with James – and going on special one-on-one “coffee dates” with their brother.
James was born a musician. He grew up singing in community choirs and attending choir camps directed by his dad and stepmom and accompanied by his mom. At age 12, James sang in Carnegie Hall with Cappella Choirs. At age 13, he toured to Costa Rica as a member of the Bellevue Presbyterian Bel Canto Youth Choir. He also took piano, drum and guitar lessons. Guitar became his primary musical focus as he got older. James even performed each Saturday (as a young teen) at the Port Orchard Farmer’s Market to earn money for a new guitar, and then his first car (a green Jeep).
James had a passion for cooking from the time he was young – even as a kid, he loved making chicken noodle soup and stir fry (often talking about how his dad’s stir fry helped inspire his love of cooking) – and always begged to go out to eat (since he loved everything about restaurants and quality food). James got his first official job as a dishwasher at Green House Restaurant in Gig Harbor at age 16. He told them upfront that he was willing to be their best dishwasher ever, but that his goal was to become a cook. And the owner and staff agreed to let him help with food prep anytime he had the dishes done. James learned on the job – going from dishwasher to line cook during his 18 months working at Green House. By the time he left, he was working the sauté and grill stations.
From the age of 12, James always dreamed of living in a big city and working in the best restaurants. In May 2013 (age 17) he started taking the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle, walking around the city, applying to numerous restaurants. He was offered several positions and began working right away at Café Presse, then added Marché and eventually Altura and Lark. He continued commuting from Port Orchard to Seattle until he rented his first apartment on Capitol Hill in September 2013 (just before turning 18 years old). James flourished in Seattle – making numerous, quality friends through his cooking and restaurant connections. He loved his life in the city (but he still came home to Port Orchard frequently to visit).
In summer of 2014, James came down with mono, then recovered and relapsed – ending up hospitalized at University of Washington Medical Center and near death in October 2014 (just after turning 19) with HLH (Hemophagocytic Lymphohistiocytosis) - a life-threatening immunodeficiency. We were told he would not survive - the HLH was causing James’ body to attack itself and all of his organs began shutting down. The doctors did all they could, thinking it wouldn’t be enough (bone marrow tests, surgically implanting a heart pump and running dialysis). James lost all sensation to his extremities and ended up with a month long hospital stay, chemo treatments (to shock the immune system back into balance) and months of home recovery back in Port Orchard. But he not only survived – he thrived for another three years. Throughout this process, James brought our family back together – gathering all of his siblings, parents and friends together for Thanksgiving 2014. It was a monumental occasion. James also had to relearn how to use his fingers, play guitar and hold his cooking knives all over again (once his nerves recovered). It was frustrating – but he persevered, spending many long nights building Lego structures (to strengthen his finger muscles and get them working again) and doing as much cooking as possible…even adapting the way he held his knives until he could resume a more “normal” way of handling them.
The HLH left his heart weakened and his medical team at UW began planning right away to get him listed for a heart transplant. His family had no idea this would be a full three year process. Throughout this time, James rebuilt his strength and got back to working full time (40-60 hours a week on his feet as a line cook). He also had three years of numerous regular doctor appointments, occasional hospitalizations or trips to the ER for IV fluids and diligently checking every last item off their very long list to get approved to be officially listed. Finally, in April 2017 he got the news they had listed him for heart transplant. As part of the agreement to be listed for transplant, James had to stop working to let his body “rest” leading up to the transplant. He had many goals including a job offer lined up at Spinasse for post-transplant – even though he really wanted to start working there sooner. James also started dating his sweet girlfriend, Mauri, in fall 2016 – and she stayed by his side throughout all of his recent hospitalizations and both transplant surgeries. James had never been happier then with Mauri by his side.
James’ heart continued to weaken and he ended up hospitalized for 3 weeks from July-August 2017 as they experimented with different heart medications, trying to find the best one to help him feel good while waiting for a heart. He was released from the hospital on 8/7/17 and went home wearing a life vest (to shock his heart should it stop) and a medicine pump bag. During a follow up appointment on Friday, 8/11/17 they gave James the big news – a heart had been found! He was told he could go home for the night and return the next day to check in. His heart transplant surgery would take place Sunday morning.
James spent Saturday, 8/12/17 with his mom and girlfriend – and visiting with his best friend in Port Orchard. Then he checked in to the hospital that afternoon, had visits from more close friends, a final pizza dinner and spent the evening being surrounded by his siblings, parents and girlfriend for a pre-transplant “party”…he played Stratego with Olivia, snuggled and chatted with Tyler and we took lots and lots of pictures with everyone. Late that night, we all found various sleeping spots in waiting rooms nearby and James went to sleep listening to his special pre=-planned “heart transplant playlist”.
The entire family woke early Sunday morning – transplant day! 8/13/17 We hung out in James’ room again as he danced around the room with his IV pole, waiting to be taken into surgery.
James went bravely into surgery – expressing no fear. He received the gift of his first heart. The surgery lasted 10 hours. The medical team ended up needing to do lots of reconstructive work including rebuilding James’ aorta from polyester material when they discovered it was completely calcified and chipping away when they tried to connect to it. They had started out with two heart surgeons (one from Children’s and one from UW) – but called in a third to assist. The head surgeon said that a number of times throughout the day they thought they were out of options – then they got creative and found a solution, moving forward. The new heart was out of body for 4.5 hours and never beat correctly. They kept James on ECMO all week – initially hoping the new heart might kick back into gear, but then changing paths and deciding to relist him for a second heart. It’s rare to receive a second heart – especially so quickly. He was kept intubated and on pain medications all week, but they woke him several times daily to check brain function. He would squeeze our hands, gesture slightly and raise eyebrows, but was unable to speak because of the breathing tube.
On Saturday 8/19/17 we got the news again – they had found a second heart that matched James!
On Sunday, 8/20/17 James had his second heart transplant surgery. We were elated when we heard that this new heart was in and working! But then a portion of his bowels were found to have died, causing severe levels of toxins in the blood. His ICU nurse, Leo, was called into surgery room to start dialysis and they ran the machine at top levels – but it wasn’t enough to help. They also called in another specialist who removed the dead portion of the intestine. We received several updates letting us know how dire the situation was and that they didn’t think James would survive. One of James’ favorite doctors – Dr. Karen Stout, was in the surgery room with him, along with Nurse Leo and a strong medical team of experienced doctors. They were able to stabilized James enough to bring him back up to his room to be with us until he officially passed.
James Andrew Stojack passed on Sunday, August 20, 2017 at 7:20 PM. Thank-you James for your warrior spirit, your never quit attitude, your perseverance, your push it to the limits, your bringing us all together, your cooking, your music, your laughter, your friendship. We all LOVE YOU.
Written by James' Dad (Donald Stojack) on August 21, 2017:
One of the biggest challenges of my life - standing next to my son, James Stojack – as he was a giant – not of stature, but of mind & spirit. As I unpack my bags today, I realize that for 21+ years I have kept a bag packed for James – always at the ready for the unplanned & planned runs to the hospital. We could never know if the visit would be an hour, a day or a week. So, unpacking - sitting on the edge of my chair in the ER – not knowing if we should order food from a local restaurant or just wait out the pain medications. Unpacking – if there could be frequent flyer miles for surgeries, James would be a VIP client. Unpacking – knowing that working as a line cook in a demanding restaurant environment was his high, but also at the top limit of his physical ability. He worked long after the doctors told him it was not practical. Unpacking – the joy of his music making. He tolerated being in my boy choir – and soared as we dropped him off at the farmer’s market at age 12, guitar in hand and 3 tunes to his list. Unpacking – the love he had for his siblings, especially Olivia and Tyler. They were his spark. Unpacking – his love for his best friend Liam’s son, Henry. Henry was his light. Unpacking – long walks, deep talks, SKYPE calls and endless time we just sat in each other’s presence. Unpacking – Holidays, Vacations, Choir Trips Unpacking – the community of friends he nourished on Capital Hill in Seattle. Unpacking – my unending love for him that will never stop, but only grow and grow and grow from this point forward.
One of the biggest challenges of my life - standing next to my son, James Stojack – as he was a giant – not of stature, but of mind & spirit. As I unpack my bags today, I realize that for 21+ years I have kept a bag packed for James – always at the ready for the unplanned & planned runs to the hospital. We could never know if the visit would be an hour, a day or a week. So, unpacking - sitting on the edge of my chair in the ER – not knowing if we should order food from a local restaurant or just wait out the pain medications. Unpacking – if there could be frequent flyer miles for surgeries, James would be a VIP client. Unpacking – knowing that working as a line cook in a demanding restaurant environment was his high, but also at the top limit of his physical ability. He worked long after the doctors told him it was not practical. Unpacking – the joy of his music making. He tolerated being in my boy choir – and soared as we dropped him off at the farmer’s market at age 12, guitar in hand and 3 tunes to his list. Unpacking – the love he had for his siblings, especially Olivia and Tyler. They were his spark. Unpacking – his love for his best friend Liam’s son, Henry. Henry was his light. Unpacking – long walks, deep talks, SKYPE calls and endless time we just sat in each other’s presence. Unpacking – Holidays, Vacations, Choir Trips Unpacking – the community of friends he nourished on Capital Hill in Seattle. Unpacking – my unending love for him that will never stop, but only grow and grow and grow from this point forward.
Written by James' stepmom (Stephanie Charbonneau) on August 23, 2017:
To my sweet James - Kid, Kiddo, Jimmy, Jim Bob, JimAndy.
Tyler & Olivia call him Brother or James-y Poo.
In the restaurants, coworkers named him Flo, Squeeze, Juice Box.
On his highschool radio show he was known as The Soul Man.
We were so excited to start calling you James 2.5 – the newer, improved model (after having been given the gift of 2½ hearts).
You packed more into your 22 years than most do in a lifetime, all with your small yet mighty heart.
You lived each day to the fullest – giving it your all.
You were driven, passionate, inspiring, giving and loving.
Memories I'll never forget:
- Holding you as a baby. You always squeezed my hand so tight.
- Your bright, deep thinking blue eyes.
- You gifting me a piece of string you found on the floor as a toddler. I still have it.
- Your brilliant, old soul thoughts even as a young child. Around the age of 7 you told me, “Each person has a purpose...the thing they are supposed to do. You just have to figure out what it is.”
- Your love of Seinfeld, soup, the soup Nazi and your visits to NYC.
- How proud you were to be the big brother of Tyler and Olivia. And how you loved to pick out their clothes (you insisted newborn Tyler be wearing his special ducky sleeper when you arrived home from school on the bus with your friend Liam to introduce them for the first time because you thought it the cutest outfit).
- How you babysat Tyler and Olivia each week while I taught piano and directed choirs – bouncing them in your arms and walking for hours and reading them cookbooks until they fell asleep on your shoulder.
- How much you loved snuggling and cuddling Tyler and Olivia from the time they were born.
- Your skilled and passionate guitar playing – especially “Here Comes The Sun” while Tyler sang and danced along, performing at the markets to earn money to buy a new guitar and then your first car (the jeep), playing with the choir on “Over The Rainbow/Wonderful World” at summer camp, you figuring out the chords to the “Baby Baby” song I made up for Tyler when he was born so we could sing and play together, and playing guitar at the beach or around our bonfires.
- Always disagreeing on how much salt we should put in our food.
- Our Thanksgiving turkey battle cook-offs…my healthy organic bird verses your super tasty, brined and fatty bird (once even wrapped in bacon).
- Being so proud of your boldness and drive when you started applying to restaurants to start as a dishwasher, then quickly working your way up to line cook.
- You deciding to get your GED when school slowed you down so you could move full force into the adult working world younger than most.
- You commuting to Seattle at the age of 17 to work at some of the top restaurants.
- You renting your first Seattle apartment exactly 4 years ago – just before turning 18.
- The fear of losing you 3 years ago when you became so sick with HLH and then watching you endure and overcome each painful medical test, chemo treatments, swollen legs and numb extremities.
- How you brought our family back together.
- 3 years of preparations for your heart transplant, crossing every t and dotting each i as the medical teams gave you more and more “to-do” items to check off your list.
- Spending time with you at so many doctor appointments, blood draws, your wisdom tooth surgery, and the ER when you had mono and the flu.
- You playing light sabers and Nerf guns with Tyler and Olivia.
- How you thoughtfully selected special Lego characters and sets, then had fun building and playing with Tyler and Olivia.
- How you worked 40-50 hours a week as a professional cook, never giving up, pushing through the pain and discomfort more than you probably should have.
- The special steak dinner you cooked for me at Café Presse when I was in town for a choir conference.
- How excited you were to tell me about your girlfriend, Mauri, and how you made each other so happy. You told me over and over again how, “She is the one!”
- Your recent determination to learn about internet marketing and start your own business – courageously changing career paths after your doctors said you were not allowed to work as a cook while awaiting the transplant.
- How you seemed to have a mental checklist these last few months, as if you were doing everything necessary in case you didn’t survive the transplant…Making extra time to spend with Tyler and Olivia, being at every birthday party and family holiday celebration. Making sure to see all of your closest friends one last time. Insisting you play Stratego with Olivia the night before your surgery. Even ordering your best friend’s son Henry a gift for his first birthday the day before your transplant – so it would be here for him whether or not you were.
- Our regular, late night phone chats. I am so grateful we fit in several during the week before your transplant.
- Your last hug (two actually!) just before they took you down to the transplant surgery.
- Wishing I could read your mind and know what you were thinking while intubated, yet alert during those precious times in your final week when you would squeeze our hands and raise your eyebrows.
- How you told us over and over that you had no fear of death, you just didn’t want your family to be sad.
- Tucking you in one final time, singing you a last song and kissing your forehead goodbye before leaving the hospital Sunday night – knowing your sweet soul was no longer in that tired, exhausted body.
"Lunar Lullaby" is my new, favorite choir song of the year and I taught it at our honor choir camp two weeks ago. The tune and lyrics have been running through my mind continuously since your death. I knew it was a beautiful and moving song – I just had no idea the lyrics would honor you:
“The moon settles in the dusky sky. The gentle eyes of the North Star rest upon your sleeping face. And the heavens gaze upon you. In this moment I know, I know – you are not of the ground on which you tread, but – of the stars. Of the stars. You are my radiant, my celestial child. But night is drowned by morning –
you remain at my side, accompanying the sunrise, until night swells again across the sky. And dreaming, you return to the stars. Dreaming, you return to the stars.”
James – we miss you so much. My heart aches as it never has before. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you on this earth. I know your soul lives on. I believe you are watching over us. I am so grateful for the numerous, beautiful memories we have with you. You moved mountains and fought battles like no other. You’ll forever be our hero. And as Tyler said tonight, now it won’t be so sad when we have to die, because you'll be there. I love you, Kiddo. Rock on, rest easy and be free. Your light will shine on.
To my sweet James - Kid, Kiddo, Jimmy, Jim Bob, JimAndy.
Tyler & Olivia call him Brother or James-y Poo.
In the restaurants, coworkers named him Flo, Squeeze, Juice Box.
On his highschool radio show he was known as The Soul Man.
We were so excited to start calling you James 2.5 – the newer, improved model (after having been given the gift of 2½ hearts).
You packed more into your 22 years than most do in a lifetime, all with your small yet mighty heart.
You lived each day to the fullest – giving it your all.
You were driven, passionate, inspiring, giving and loving.
Memories I'll never forget:
- Holding you as a baby. You always squeezed my hand so tight.
- Your bright, deep thinking blue eyes.
- You gifting me a piece of string you found on the floor as a toddler. I still have it.
- Your brilliant, old soul thoughts even as a young child. Around the age of 7 you told me, “Each person has a purpose...the thing they are supposed to do. You just have to figure out what it is.”
- Your love of Seinfeld, soup, the soup Nazi and your visits to NYC.
- How proud you were to be the big brother of Tyler and Olivia. And how you loved to pick out their clothes (you insisted newborn Tyler be wearing his special ducky sleeper when you arrived home from school on the bus with your friend Liam to introduce them for the first time because you thought it the cutest outfit).
- How you babysat Tyler and Olivia each week while I taught piano and directed choirs – bouncing them in your arms and walking for hours and reading them cookbooks until they fell asleep on your shoulder.
- How much you loved snuggling and cuddling Tyler and Olivia from the time they were born.
- Your skilled and passionate guitar playing – especially “Here Comes The Sun” while Tyler sang and danced along, performing at the markets to earn money to buy a new guitar and then your first car (the jeep), playing with the choir on “Over The Rainbow/Wonderful World” at summer camp, you figuring out the chords to the “Baby Baby” song I made up for Tyler when he was born so we could sing and play together, and playing guitar at the beach or around our bonfires.
- Always disagreeing on how much salt we should put in our food.
- Our Thanksgiving turkey battle cook-offs…my healthy organic bird verses your super tasty, brined and fatty bird (once even wrapped in bacon).
- Being so proud of your boldness and drive when you started applying to restaurants to start as a dishwasher, then quickly working your way up to line cook.
- You deciding to get your GED when school slowed you down so you could move full force into the adult working world younger than most.
- You commuting to Seattle at the age of 17 to work at some of the top restaurants.
- You renting your first Seattle apartment exactly 4 years ago – just before turning 18.
- The fear of losing you 3 years ago when you became so sick with HLH and then watching you endure and overcome each painful medical test, chemo treatments, swollen legs and numb extremities.
- How you brought our family back together.
- 3 years of preparations for your heart transplant, crossing every t and dotting each i as the medical teams gave you more and more “to-do” items to check off your list.
- Spending time with you at so many doctor appointments, blood draws, your wisdom tooth surgery, and the ER when you had mono and the flu.
- You playing light sabers and Nerf guns with Tyler and Olivia.
- How you thoughtfully selected special Lego characters and sets, then had fun building and playing with Tyler and Olivia.
- How you worked 40-50 hours a week as a professional cook, never giving up, pushing through the pain and discomfort more than you probably should have.
- The special steak dinner you cooked for me at Café Presse when I was in town for a choir conference.
- How excited you were to tell me about your girlfriend, Mauri, and how you made each other so happy. You told me over and over again how, “She is the one!”
- Your recent determination to learn about internet marketing and start your own business – courageously changing career paths after your doctors said you were not allowed to work as a cook while awaiting the transplant.
- How you seemed to have a mental checklist these last few months, as if you were doing everything necessary in case you didn’t survive the transplant…Making extra time to spend with Tyler and Olivia, being at every birthday party and family holiday celebration. Making sure to see all of your closest friends one last time. Insisting you play Stratego with Olivia the night before your surgery. Even ordering your best friend’s son Henry a gift for his first birthday the day before your transplant – so it would be here for him whether or not you were.
- Our regular, late night phone chats. I am so grateful we fit in several during the week before your transplant.
- Your last hug (two actually!) just before they took you down to the transplant surgery.
- Wishing I could read your mind and know what you were thinking while intubated, yet alert during those precious times in your final week when you would squeeze our hands and raise your eyebrows.
- How you told us over and over that you had no fear of death, you just didn’t want your family to be sad.
- Tucking you in one final time, singing you a last song and kissing your forehead goodbye before leaving the hospital Sunday night – knowing your sweet soul was no longer in that tired, exhausted body.
"Lunar Lullaby" is my new, favorite choir song of the year and I taught it at our honor choir camp two weeks ago. The tune and lyrics have been running through my mind continuously since your death. I knew it was a beautiful and moving song – I just had no idea the lyrics would honor you:
“The moon settles in the dusky sky. The gentle eyes of the North Star rest upon your sleeping face. And the heavens gaze upon you. In this moment I know, I know – you are not of the ground on which you tread, but – of the stars. Of the stars. You are my radiant, my celestial child. But night is drowned by morning –
you remain at my side, accompanying the sunrise, until night swells again across the sky. And dreaming, you return to the stars. Dreaming, you return to the stars.”
James – we miss you so much. My heart aches as it never has before. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you on this earth. I know your soul lives on. I believe you are watching over us. I am so grateful for the numerous, beautiful memories we have with you. You moved mountains and fought battles like no other. You’ll forever be our hero. And as Tyler said tonight, now it won’t be so sad when we have to die, because you'll be there. I love you, Kiddo. Rock on, rest easy and be free. Your light will shine on.
Written by James' Dad, Donald - on September 12, 2017 - the day we released James' ashes at the top of the dune in Pacific City, Oregon:
A journey is more than a lifetime. Our being has its roots in the ancestors who proceed conception and by extension, those of all we encounter in our life. Our connections and paths intertwine on a wild ride that we call life. At our passing, the journey flies into high gear – as all the work of our years gets paid forward to the many who will follow. James Andrew Stojack – 8002 days – filled endless volumes (& not just the medical notes that both Seattle Children’s Hospital and University of Washington Medical Center shared for over 2 decades). He engaged, energized, enlightened, entertained, and created an enthusiasm for life that inspired many who crossed his path.
So, this is how it went down. Pacific City, Oregon – where our family has vacationed most years – this is where we have typically retreated after a year of choir rehearsals, concerts, festivals, tours and camps – a place that has always recharged us for the start of the new fall season. We came here 2 years ago – specifically to celebrate with James his recovery from multiple organ failure the year before. All his siblings in one place for a week to connect and learn to engage together as adults. James made a point to climb the high dune at Cape Kiwanda – making it to the top ahead of all of us. Last spring we had initially booked a vacation week in August – only to cancel later in the week as James was confirmed on the heart transplant list.
We started out at 11:30 AM for the mile walk down the beach. Each of us took turns carrying James’ ashes that were secure inside his backpack. On the outside of the backpack was tucked his black “Tillamook” hoodie - just as he had arranged it the night before his first transplant. Brother Mike sourced a couple of shells to use to fling the ashes to the wind. Inside the back pack was a singing bowl, a gift from over a decade ago from our dear friend Frans Bosman – who uses them in his sound healing practice. We used the singing bowl at the top of the dune to create space for dispersing the ashes. As any line cook would do – a handful of kitchen towels just in case.
Each of us carried James in the order of years that we knew James – from the most recent, to the longest: Mauri (girlfriend), Heidi (Liam’s finance), Paul (family friend), Nichole (Brother Greg’s girlfriend), Alayna (co-worker from his first restaurant job at the Greenhouse in Gig Harbor), Nick (junior high friend), Liam (grade school friend), Tyler (brother), Karen (family friend), Sami (childhood family friend), Jessie (neighborhood childhood friend), Rebecca K.(Family friend), Hannaliese (Family friend), Becca (Sister), Mike (brother), Greg (brother), Stephanie (Step-mom), Debbie (Mom), Donald (Dad). Once we all climbed the 220 feet up the dune, the siblings used the singing bowl to create space – each toning the number of years that James was their brother. James left us a lot of ashes to take turns flinging to the wind – making sure with each toss, the wind was firmly at our backs. A big group hug and quick decent. Beautiful weather and an afternoon and evening of just being together.
Extreme LOVE ….
A journey is more than a lifetime. Our being has its roots in the ancestors who proceed conception and by extension, those of all we encounter in our life. Our connections and paths intertwine on a wild ride that we call life. At our passing, the journey flies into high gear – as all the work of our years gets paid forward to the many who will follow. James Andrew Stojack – 8002 days – filled endless volumes (& not just the medical notes that both Seattle Children’s Hospital and University of Washington Medical Center shared for over 2 decades). He engaged, energized, enlightened, entertained, and created an enthusiasm for life that inspired many who crossed his path.
So, this is how it went down. Pacific City, Oregon – where our family has vacationed most years – this is where we have typically retreated after a year of choir rehearsals, concerts, festivals, tours and camps – a place that has always recharged us for the start of the new fall season. We came here 2 years ago – specifically to celebrate with James his recovery from multiple organ failure the year before. All his siblings in one place for a week to connect and learn to engage together as adults. James made a point to climb the high dune at Cape Kiwanda – making it to the top ahead of all of us. Last spring we had initially booked a vacation week in August – only to cancel later in the week as James was confirmed on the heart transplant list.
We started out at 11:30 AM for the mile walk down the beach. Each of us took turns carrying James’ ashes that were secure inside his backpack. On the outside of the backpack was tucked his black “Tillamook” hoodie - just as he had arranged it the night before his first transplant. Brother Mike sourced a couple of shells to use to fling the ashes to the wind. Inside the back pack was a singing bowl, a gift from over a decade ago from our dear friend Frans Bosman – who uses them in his sound healing practice. We used the singing bowl at the top of the dune to create space for dispersing the ashes. As any line cook would do – a handful of kitchen towels just in case.
Each of us carried James in the order of years that we knew James – from the most recent, to the longest: Mauri (girlfriend), Heidi (Liam’s finance), Paul (family friend), Nichole (Brother Greg’s girlfriend), Alayna (co-worker from his first restaurant job at the Greenhouse in Gig Harbor), Nick (junior high friend), Liam (grade school friend), Tyler (brother), Karen (family friend), Sami (childhood family friend), Jessie (neighborhood childhood friend), Rebecca K.(Family friend), Hannaliese (Family friend), Becca (Sister), Mike (brother), Greg (brother), Stephanie (Step-mom), Debbie (Mom), Donald (Dad). Once we all climbed the 220 feet up the dune, the siblings used the singing bowl to create space – each toning the number of years that James was their brother. James left us a lot of ashes to take turns flinging to the wind – making sure with each toss, the wind was firmly at our backs. A big group hug and quick decent. Beautiful weather and an afternoon and evening of just being together.
Extreme LOVE ….