6/30/1972 – 2/24/2023
I met Jaxon Cat Williams in 2012 or 2013, shortly after his mastectomy. I was practicing as a Physical Therapist specializing in breast cancer rehab when the universe smiled down on me, and Jax was randomly assigned to my caseload.
We connected almost immediately over our ADHD brains… and as time passed, over nearly everything else. Jax had this magical way of truly seeing and appreciating you. I heard this theme repeated again and again at his memorial service in 2023. Everyone he had met over his too-brief life seemed impacted by his unique, beautiful energy. He quickly left the “patient” category and entered the “chosen family” one, a place he maintains to this day.
Cancer could not dim this light. In fact, while deep in the throes of what can minimally be described as a gruelling course of treatment for his metastatic cancer, this light somehow shone even brighter. He began posting social media updates on his condition. His message was clear and consistent: get out there and live your life. The memory of one post in particular stays with me to this day.
“Time is so valuable, and once it’s gone you don’t get it back…make that memory with someone…do it for me.”
He could have posted about his intense migraines, his inability to eat most foods, or how his illness robbed him of his professional life as a veterinary cardiologist. Instead, he chose to focus on others, how he could lift US up, and in so doing, encourage us to live our best lives.
I should mention that when I first met Jax, he still identified as female. He chose to have a flat reconstruction because he had never felt that his breasts were an integral part of his life. As I recall, Jax’s cancer was estrogen-positive, so his treatment included hormone suppression. This suppression left him plagued by other ailments, and he began taking testosterone. Over our decade together, I watched, amazed, while his true trans male identity emerged.
I am, to this day, deeply grateful to have borne witness to Jax’s transition. I didn’t think it was possible for the light in his eyes to be any brighter than it was when I first met him. Throughout his transition, it became positively luminous. As he once told me, “I look in the mirror and FINALLY see myself!” Jax was resplendent with pure joy. His cancer was wickedly ironic. It coincided with his transition, in some ways helping him to find life in his true, male identity…but then it cruelly took that life from him.
I delayed writing this tribute because I didn’t want to get the details wrong: I couldn’t remember his exact diagnosis date, or what specific type of breast cancer he had. I was worried I would misrepresent his transition journey. Like many, I worried about finding the correct words to use. I wanted to get everything just right. Jax deserved it.
What I now understand is how little the details matter. When we look back on the lives of those we have loved and lost, we remember how they made us feel and that is what matters the most. Jax wrote to us, “Look for me in the hearts, YES, that will be me!” I saw Jax as I was writing this tribute. I asked my dear friend if she would proofread it for me, which felt like a big ask, considering the topic. She responded, “Jen, it’s never a big ask.” In that moment, I felt him. I was reminded his love lives on within all of us, towards one another. Honor Jaxon today and every day but showing love and light to yourself and one another.
Tribute courtesy of Jenni