A life of lessons: How 14-year-old JJ Bledsoe’s legacy continues to inspire

Jacob Jeffrey “JJ” Bledsoe, 13, warms up in the bullpen at Capaha Field while playing for the travel baseball team, The Goats, in the summer of 2024.Photo provided

CHARLESTON, Mo. — Jacob Jeffrey “JJ” Bledsoe never got the opportunity to grow into an adult and find his professional calling. However, speak to those who knew the 14-year-old Charleston native well, and it is clear that education may have fit him more comfortably than a Patrick Mahomes jersey.

That is because, despite his youth, JJ spent the past year of his life teaching lessons on strength, love, the value of relationships and time, and most importantly, faith in God, our beloved Savior.

“He was the most polite and well-mannered kid you would ever meet,” Sam Bledsoe, JJ’s older brother of nine years, said.

And, yes, JJ taught lessons on the importance of being courteous, as well.

JJ passed away on Feb. 13 in a place that brought him peace, his family’s home in Charleston, and surrounded by the people he cherished most: Sam, older brother Ben, older sister, Hannah, and his parents, Jason and Stephanie Bledsoe, as God welcomed a young boy whose impact through those lessons will reverberate for decades.

He had endured a one-plus year battle with a rare, aggressive form of cancer, Diffuse midline glioma, which unjustly attached to JJ’s thalamus.

“He changed our lives,” the three nurses told the Bledsoe family at JJ’s funeral.

Those words were uttered by three medical professionals at the St. Louis Children’s Hospital, who attend to children every single day, yet for the first time in their careers, knew that they had to be there for JJ’s funeral at St. Henry Catholic Church in Charleston.

THAT is the impact that JJ Bledsoe had on everyone.

“That has been amazing,” Stephanie said of the stream of people who have told her how this tragedy has changed them as people. “It’s to the point where I don’t know what we have actually done, other than JJ just being a really good, great kid.

“He didn’t go out and do any kind of big thing (over) this year. He just loved God and prayed and was happy.”

That is where Stephanie is wrong; God bless her for the rest of her days. JJ did nothing BUT big things throughout the final chapter of his story.

In January 2024, JJ began to “have some headaches,” according to Jason. But despite being just 13 at the time, JJ had the grown-man mantra of “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to a doctor,” down pat.

“It just wasn’t normal for him to complain about (being ill),” Stephanie said. “But he did say that ‘It zaps me afterward.’

“He was trying to talk me out of going to the doctor because he was never sick.”

One night, JJ awoke with a terrible migraine, so Stephanie made an appointment with their family physician, Dr. Steven L. Douglas II (now of Saint Francis Healthcare System).

Douglas “didn’t suspect anything,” Stephanie recalled, but the physician was hesitant to just “push migraine medicine” onto JJ.

He ordered a CT scan to be done in Dexter, and before Stephanie and JJ had reached Sikeston on the drive back to Charleston, Douglas was calling to have the two of them, and Jason meet him in his East Prairie office.

“That has never happened before,” Stephanie said.

Time was of the essence, so the three of them returned home, “packed bags, went to St. Louis Children’s Hospital and lived there for 31 days,” Jason said.

In St. Louis, a biopsy was done on JJ’s tumor, and the family was told they would have a prognosis in 10 days.

“JJ was good,” his parents said. “He was sitting up in bed and making jokes.”

“He would say that ‘Nothing was wrong with me until you made me come here,’” Stephanie recalled.

Five days had passed when the doctor came in to have the most difficult conversation that the Bledsoe family will ever endure.

“(The doctor) told us that JJ should be in here for this,” Jason said.

Jason and Stephanie were hesitant because they didn’t know what the doctor was going to say.

Sam, who was playing basketball at Missouri-St. Louis at the time, was visiting JJ, as well as JJ’s friends, Graham Willoughby and Colin Renaud. The two boys waited outside the room while the four Bledsoes were told the horrific news “Point blank,” Jason said.

“He told us that JJ had one, maybe two years to live,” Jason said.

“But then he threw out two to five years,” Stephanie added.

“And JJ was sitting there,” Jason said. “We looked at JJ and he was devastated.”

The Bledsoes collapsed onto each other. Sam couldn’t control the shaking in his knees.

“I just sat there and looked at the doctor,” Sam said. “I really couldn’t (process it). It didn’t feel real.”

There is no instruction manual for parents to navigate the worst circumstances they will ever face.

“I just wanted somebody to tell me what to do,” Stephanie said. “Whatever it was (that could help JJ), I would do it.

“We just wanted to take care of JJ.”

Stephanie threw herself emotionally and mentally into the hope that, by some miracle, the problem could be resolved.

“I wanted to fix it,” Stephanie said. “OK, what is the next step? I thought we would get to two years. In two years, there is going to be something (to help JJ), and we’re going to do that, and that would get us another year. That was my mindset. That is what I kept thinking. We just need to get to the one mark, and then we need to get to the next one, and then we’ll find things to make it OK.

‘But we never…’

JJ gave his mother a bracelet saying, “Keep moving forward.”

Jason now wears a sweatshirt with that philosophy across the chest.

“We were going to keep moving forward,” Stephanie explained, “and we were going to take tomorrow, and we’re going to move forward once we get through tomorrow.”

The four Bledsoes at the hospital called Ben, who was pitching for St. Charles Community College, Hannah, who was then a junior at Notre Dame High School, and JJ’s grandparents, and they were told: “We have to have a family talk.”

Each of the Bledsoes handled the news in different ways, but what allowed the family to get through this past year were two things: Faith in God and a steel-chain link of love for each other.

“We’re a very tight family,” Jason said.

Both parents emphasized that Sam, Ben and Hannah “were incredible” in support of JJ.

“They were around every minute they could possibly be with him,” Jason said. “The four of them, and the six of us, are extremely close, and extremely tight.

“We do everything together.”

Sam, 23, had the largest age gap with JJ and is in his first season as a graduate assistant with the Southeast Missouri State men’s basketball program.

His relationship with JJ was often more of a coach wanting his youngest sibling to be as good as he could be in both baseball and basketball.

“Sam would play with him,” Stephanie said, “but Sam was always teaching him, too. Ben would just play with him.”

JJ enjoyed basketball, but he loved to be on the pitching mound, like Ben.

“He looked up to both boys,” Stephanie said. “But he idolized Ben.”

Of the three Bledsoe boys, only JJ swam competitively (Ben’s two-day career doesn’t count), which is also what Hannah, a senior at Notre Dame, did, as well. So, each sibling had a connection with JJ, personally and athletically.

“When we were going through the hardest times,” Stephanie said, “all of (the kids) had the different things that they added to their relationships with JJ. But I’ll say this, Ben had a calming presence that kept everyone still smiling and still relaxed a little bit.

“We weren’t so wound tight.”

“Ben’s a cool guy,” Hannah added.

Shortly after the diagnosis, the medical staff performed a “laser ablation” surgery on JJ, which would help the upcoming radiation treatments be more effective. There was a risk to the surgery, however, because it typically wasn’t performed on children. But given JJ’s 6-foot-plus frame, the doctors felt it could be.

JJ came out of the surgery well.

“He was making jokes,” Stephanie said. “We said he was feeling wonky because he was just so silly.

“Everything was real light.”

Later that night, JJ began to have violent seizures, which were caused by his brain bleeding.

The surgeon explained that if he performed surgery, “there was a 50% chance that JJ wouldn’t make it” through the surgery, Stephanie said.

“He also said that if JJ does make it,” Stephanie continued, “the likelihood that he would be able to walk, talk or function in daily life, we don’t know.”

“He said this surgery is very, very risky,” Jason said, “and it is very, very long.”

The alternative was to allow JJ to pass away peacefully.

“They said we can make him comfortable and give him peace,” Stephanie said.

Jason asked the doctor how quickly they would have to make that decision.

“You have 10 minutes,” the doctor replied.

The surgeon gave the Bledsoe family 30 minutes so Sam and Ben could join their parents and Hannah, who were already at the hospital, for the decision.

“Once we told Ben,” Hannah explained, “you could tell that Ben was about to punch holes in the wall.”

Somehow, JJ came through the surgery, relatively well.

“God worked a miracle through (the surgeon),” Jason said.

JJ had to have part of his skull removed to relieve the pressure from the swelling in his brain.

He did a phenomenal job of rehabilitating and learning how to use the left side of his body again.

In January, he had been practicing with a Southeast Missouri travel baseball team, The Goats, which he loved.

“Mom,” JJ had told her about his baseball team, “I literally love all the guys on my team.”

He couldn’t participate in baseball with a plate in his head.

The doctors didn’t want him around the games until he had his skull repaired in June. However, when he had the energy to, JJ would go out to his backyard and begin to work on his baseball and basketball skills with Sam and Ben.

Jason helped coach The Goats, so the Bledsoes would travel everywhere The Goats did.

“His ultimate goal was to pitch again,” Jason said.

In late August, JJ had worked his way back to being healthy enough to throw a baseball. However, he hadn’t trained his body to swing a bat or even run.

On the first pitch he saw in a tournament in Tennessee, JJ laced a liner down the third base line.

“I was bawling,” Jason said. “Everybody lost their minds.”

JJ wasn’t finished.

In the second game of the day, he pitched and threw three innings and allowed just one earned run.

“People were coming up,” Stephanie said, “and they were saying how amazed they were, how neat it was that they got to experience this.”

The following day, JJ didn’t play in The Goats’ game, but it didn’t matter.

“He’s in the dugout,” Stephanie said, “and he is just glowing, and the kids around him were, too.

“There was just so much joy and happiness.”

With the help of SEMO baseball coach Andy Sawyers, whose son played on The Goats, as well, the team participated in a tournament at Capaha Field, and JJ was spectacular in that performance, also.

In the final pitching performance of his life, JJ threw five innings and allowed just one earned run.

“He could play anywhere (on the field),” Jason said. “He could do anything.”

By the end of his life, JJ, despite his illness, continued to grow. He hadn’t quite caught up to Ben’s 6-foot-3 (and a half) frame, but he was awfully close.

“He was going to be an absolute beast,” Jason said of his son’s athletic prowess.

The Bledsoes were offered the opportunity to take part in an experience through the Make-A-Wish Foundation, and JJ’s choice shocked everyone.

“I wanted him to pick a trip to Hawaii,” Hannah said.

JJ chose to take a helicopter to a glacier in Alaska, as well as see the northern lights.

“I think he chose that just to spite me,” Hannah said.

There were a multitude of times when the Bledsoe family was embraced by the love of strangers (which continues), and in September, they felt the love of the community of Charleston.

The Make-A-Wish Foundation only covers the cost of family members, who still live at home, which Ben and Sam did not. So, the community of Charleston raised the necessary funds to send all six members of the family on the trip.

“That was a very generous donation,” Stephanie said.

The family wasn’t finished experiencing the love of people.

The Foundation would only cover the helicopter expense for four people, so Jason and Stephanie agreed to stay back and allow their children to experience landing on a glacier and spending the day on it. When the owner of the charter service learned of the Bledsoe story, that company covered the cost of the extra helicopter so that the entire family could experience it.

The Bledsoes spent the day walking and riding around the glacier, however, there was a limited amount of the trip captured by JJ.

“Ten minutes after landing on the glacier,” Sam laughed, “JJ bent down to get some water off the glacier and dropped his phone (into the water).”

Agonizingly, the family watched the phone sink 40 feet down.

Stephanie said, “JJ was pretty crushed.” But the family was able to get him another phone and restore his information. On the bright side, JJ has left his mark on a glacier in Alaska for eternity.

As far as the northern lights go, the family did not get to see any in Alaska, but upon arriving back in Missouri, they actually got to see them from their home one night in Charleston.

JJ celebrated his 14th birthday on Oct. 30, 2024, and his family gave him, essentially, unlimited options to commemorate the day.

“We wanted to do something huge for his birthday,” Stephanie said. “We’ll do anything that you want.

“We’ll go anywhere. We’ll go to the beach.”

Here is where everyone can learn yet another lesson from JJ.

Given a figurative blank check to do anything, go anywhere or receive any gift, JJ only wanted one thing.

“He wanted his friends to come over,” Stephanie said. “He wanted to have a fire pit in the backyard, just chill, and play wiffle ball.”

His final birthday wish had nothing to do with money or what it could buy. JJ had learned the value of relationships.

“You learn to value how people treat you,” Sam said. “How you treat other people.

“It doesn’t matter how many points they score or how much money they make or what they’re doing for you.”

JJ was an eighth-grade student at St. Henry Catholic School in Charleston but played basketball with two other St. Henry’s students for St. Augustine Catholic School in Kelso. In mid-December, true to his athletic ability, JJ played an exemplary game and finished with 12 points, despite battling a spreading cancer.

Shortly thereafter, he had another seizure following a school program and had to be air-evacuated to St. Louis.

“When JJ had that episode,” Stephanie said, “he looked at me and whispered, ‘I’m really scared.’ I told him that I was really scared, too. But you know what we do?”

“We surrender it to God,” JJ replied.

He only returned to school one more time in January, before the doctors found that the cancer had spread “everywhere” through his body.

“I told him that we were done messing with going (to the hospital),” Stephanie said. “He said ‘Good.’”

JJ had another inning left in his body, though, and “started perking up,” according to Stephanie.

On almost no notice, the Bledsoes sent word to The Goats that they were having a gathering for JJ for anyone who could show up.

The entire team, plus their families, wanted to come.

“We couldn’t have 45 people in our house,” Stephanie laughed. “We don’t have a huge house.”

So, the players and coaches came together one final time and played video games and even went outside to hang out.

At 6-foot-2, 170 pounds, JJ “was a head taller than everybody else,” according to Jason.

He possessed physical strength, for sure. However, the mental toughness to endure what JJ did for a year is unfathomable to any adult reading this.

How do you manage your mental strength — on a daily basis — when you’re told you have a death sentence?

“He put it on a shelf,” Stephanie said. “That was JJ’s thing. If you ever asked him, he was good.”

JJ may have been consumed inside with it, but he didn’t show that on his exterior. He was so strong about dealing with the disease, his parents were worried about his mental state.

“We were concerned with that,” Jason said. “We didn’t want him to just ignore it. We wanted to have those conversations, and he was like ‘I’m good. I’m OK.’”

The Bledsoe family poured themselves into prayer on a nightly basis, to the point JJ had certain prayers that had been given to him by another cancer patient memorized within a week.

“I think that it was his faith,” Stephanie said, “and it was his family. Those were the things he was adamant about.”

The public funeral for JJ was an overflowing mass of emotion and love.

St. Henry’s was bursting to its seams with people.

Young people who played with JJ years ago showed up.

Both his basketball and baseball teams showed up.

Southeast Missouri State men’s basketball coach Brad Korn had the entire Redhawk program show up.

And in a way, JJ showed up.

Two days before his public funeral, the Bledsoes visited JJ’s body in the funeral home, and Sam wasn’t “comfortable” in doing so.

“It didn’t even look like him,” Sam said. “He looked super pale. I got sick to my stomach.”

The family had a private Mass with Father David Dohogne on a Sunday, and when the family saw JJ in St. Henry’s, he looked visibly different.

“I thought someone had put makeup on him,” Sam said. “It was his natural color. He had a glow.”

The funeral director told the priest that once they brought JJ’s body into the church, his coloring changed.

“He looked bright,” Stephanie said through a stream of tears, “the way that he is. He’s a bright kid. He just sees sunshine, and that is what he looked like.

“He looked like he was happy.”