Rest in Peace to my father, Jack Wilson, Jr.
The greatest man I have ever known.

I have to talk about this. For my own sake. It’s helpful in allowing me to move forward. And it’ll probably explain the lack of posts these days.

In December of 2025, my Father was diagnosed with cancer. This news came while I was in Canada filming for a dream project that I’ve been working on. As I’ve often said to people, “Life happens whether you want it to or not.” There’s no convenient time to get bad news or have something happen that derails your meticulously laid plans. No, life will happen regardless. As a professional, I had to finish the job, but once I got back to New York, I took a couple of days to rest. I spent Christmas day alone, going over everything in my mind. The I went home to Mississippi the following day to see him and be with family. Talk about a sobering, sad time. My Dad had been battling Parkinson’s disease for years and now cancer? What the…?!

We met with his doctor in January of this year and she delivered further devastating news. He only had about 6-8 months to live. Given his physical condition, he would have been too weak to undergo any rigorous treatment options. Hearing my Mom’s voice crack as she pleaded with the doctor is one of the saddest moments I have ever witnessed and something I will never forget for as long as I live. It was devastating. We were all quiet after the meeting and, when conversation finally resumed, we were positive and made valiant attempts at optimism despite the finite nature of the news we received.

From that point it was all hands on deck. Everyone chipping in in their way to extend my Father’s life or at the least make his transition into passing as comfortable as we could. Things were looking great for a brief period. His appetite returned, he was eating more, complaining of pain less, and we expected he would be with us for at least the 6-8 months the doctor proposed. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.

My Father passed away suddenly on February 21st of this year. I was set to travel out of the country on February 24th to continue work on the aformentioned project so I was in the middle of preparations. I had spent the majority of the week planning and packing. I was excited to go, but I had this nagging feeling that if I left I would get some bad news by the time I returned.

It caught me off guard when my nephew messaged me and told me they had to rush him to the hospital. He suddenly stopped breathing and despite the hospital’s best efforts, he passed away. I was floored.

For those of you who haven’t lost a parent, I will say it’s one of the most surreal things you’ll experience in life. Parents are like unmoving, strong pillars in our lives. They seem to represent security, safety, and consistency in many ways. They’re literally there at the beginning of your life. It was odd to think I couldn’t just pick up the phone and call my Dad! Like, what?! No way…

You might gather from this post that my Dad and I were close. We definitely were. I am the youngest of three and, as a kid, I was sort of the runt of the litter. The smallest child by a wide margin. I was so small, my Dad thought I had some sort of medical condition and at one point considered taking me to a doctor for it.

Thankfully I would have a growth spurt in the 11th grade. My siblings are a year apart in age and grew up together. Since I was so much younger I was often by myself. So as a child, my Dad would take me everywhere with him. He would ride a bike around my hometown of Jackson, Mississippi and there I was, little Jamiya Wilson, on the back of the bike holding on while he took us on yet another adventure.

And that’s truly what it was like. Everyday with him was an adventure. And more importantly, and a testament to his legacy and the man he was, everyday was a lesson. I can’t recall one day that I’ve spent with my Dad that I didn’t learn something from the man. He was Mufasa and I was Simba. Every conversation, every errand to the store or a simple ride in the car would come with some little lesson, some nugget of wisdom. My Dad was amazing, in every sense of the word. Strong, smart, dedicated, innovative, resourceful, funny, cool, courageous, and badass. What a brilliant man.

Oh and was he stylish. Unless he was working, he was probably ‘suited and booted’.

After the news of his passing, I had to cancel my trip, inform all involved parties, and make arrangements to be home for his funeral. Funerals come so quickly, it’s hard to emotionally prepare for them. And one of this magnitude? I worried I would be an emotional mess. Yet despite the situation, there was a peace building within me. I just wanted to be there for my family, for my Mom especially. My beautiful, strong, courageous Mom. She needed us more than anything, so the focus was less on my own feelings and more about helping my Mom navigate such a tough time in her life(I’m sure my siblings feel similarly). They were married for 50 years! So you can imagine how devastated and lost she must have felt then(and still as I write this).

*A proud father and, equally, a proud husband. He and my mom were together 50 years!*

We had a private viewing ceremony before the actual funeral. I was quite nervous about it admittedly, but once I got there and saw my Dad laying there in the casket, at rest, I felt a wave of mixed emotions. Of course a lot of sadness, but there was a sense of relief. And happiness?! I was happy he could be at peace now. I know that’s a weird sentiment to have when someone passes, but I really felt for my Dad in the later years of his life. He was someone so vibrant, full of energy and vitality. He would light up a room with his charisma. He was funny, loved to talk, loved to share music, and made everyone feel welcome. We’d regularly stay up to 5 in the morning just chatting about literally any topic.

Once he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s his movement got restricted. His body was often very stiff and unable to function without assistance. Before his passing, it was also getting to the point where he couldn’t speak as clearly as he once did. Everything was becoming a struggle for him. There were moments, I’m sure, where I know his pride was hurt. He couldn’t be himself anymore and that must have been so hard.

So to see him finally at rest after all that’s been stripped away from him in his later years, I was happy for him. Hopefully in the next place, he’s grinning and chatting it up with some of his old friends and family members.

The funeral occurred a couple of days later and of course it was a rollercoaster of emotions for everyone. He was a very well respected and beloved person in our little world and in the community so there were a lot of people in attendance and a whole lot of love in the room. I’m sure he would have smiled at that. Even the sun came out that day and blessed us with beautiful warm weather and clear skies. There was something poetic and touching about his send off.

After the funeral we gathered at my parent’s home and had dinner with family. It was a fun time with lots of laughs, reminiscing on good times and taking solace in our faith and knowing everything would be okay. It was also great to see how many people showed up for my Mom. She’s given so much to her family over the years so it was nice to see that reciprocated.

I stayed home for a few days then eventually returned to New York. Feeling empty.

It all happened so fast I don’t think I had time to really process it. Understandably, I took some time off from work just to get my bearings and make sure I was in the right headspace. My clients were all very supportive and understanding during this time as well as friends when I shared the news on social media. I didn’t want to rush back because I’ve dealt with grief quite a few times in my life.

“Grief is like a weight that you carry but you never know just how heavy it will be. Some days it feels light as a feather and some days it feels like carrying a boulder up a hill in the rain. And you never know when it will hit. One minute you’re happy, the next you see or hear something that reminds you of them and you’re an emotional mess.”

What I’ve found interesting during my grieving period, is how people responded. Some were very empathetic and understanding of such a loss. Or at the very least they felt concerned for me and having to go through it. I received some very touching messages from people I didn’t expect. Others who I expected more from, acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe because of hangups with their own parents. But while I was dealing with one of the saddest moments in my life, it was surprising people I thought were close, would reach out and somehow make it about them. Or nag me about some insignificant things in the midst of a family crisis. The gal of people sometimes. I didn’t say anything, but I’ll never forget it. Sometimes things happen in life to show you who’s really with you.

If you’re dealing with grief, talk to people you can trust or those who have proven themselves to be good listeners. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone. To vent, to laugh, or just to be hear. Consider grief counseling if going to a professional feels more comfortable. Just don’t sit there struggling with all those confusing emotions if you can avoid it. It’s a heavy burden to carry at times. Having some help to cope with it is a blessing.

I spoke at the funeral and in my speech I talked about how we should honor my father and his legacy. Given how close we were I just know what he would say if he saw me sulking around the house, moping, being all sad, angry, feeling sorry for myself.

“Alright son, you’ve cried enough. Find something to do. You’re doing good. Keep on pushin’.” He would say in his authoritative voice.

So I took some time to myself, remembered the good times, the emotional ones, the regrettable ones, all of it. I spent several days in isolation. I had really good cry when I heard the song Keep on Pushin’ (one of my Dad’s favorites) by The Impressions. I let all the emotions out, dusted myself off, and got back on the horse.

During that time, a person very dear to me reached out and consoled me. She suggested coming to visit soon and it was right on time. I needed a friend, the company, and to get my mind back on track. I can’t thank her enough. God sends angels when you least expect it.

Fast forward to today and as I pen this, the rush of emotions come back like before. The death of a parent is never an easy thing to talk about or wrap one’s head around, especially when you were close. In my life, my Dad was like the Sun. Losing him feels like I’ve lost a part of myself. Like the world isn’t right anymore.

However, in that sadness I feel, there’s hope. No matter how gloomy the emotions get, there’s always this light cutting through the darkness that keeps me going. There’s determination. There’s a renewed sense of purpose. There’s security in knowing I have another angel looking over me.

If your parents are still in your life, give them a hug, tell them how much you love them. Give them their flowers while they’re here.

“To my Dad,

Thank you for all you gave. To your people, your community, your family, and to me. All the talks, all the laughs, all the history you shared, all the lessons(even when I stubbornly didn’t want to hear them) have proven invaluable on my life’s journey. You gave me everything I need.

All you sacrificed to ensure I had a good, safe, and productive upbringing won’t be for naught. I will honor your legacy by becoming the man you always knew I could be.

I love you and we’ll meet again on the other side. I’ll have a lot of great stories to tell you.”

— Your son, Jamiya

I’ll be back to posting on a more regular basis from now on. Likely twice a month. More if inspiration strikes me. I have a big announcement coming in May along with some other exciting plans so I’ll be working quietly over here the next couple of weeks. It’s good to be back.

Thank you for reading.

Hope you enjoyed this post! Feel free to leave your thoughts and comments below!

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