Honoring James Anthony Green

James was born in 1994 in Hartford, Connecticut, a city that would witness his passion, talent, and unwavering loyalty to family. He was a devoted son, a beloved brother, a protective uncle, a caring cousin, and a cherished friend. He was also a proud father to two beautiful sons, James Jr. and Karter, who were the light of his life.

James had a magnetic energy. He loved hard and lived fully. A die-hard fan of the Cleveland Cavaliers and New England Patriots, he could talk sports for hours, but he could also lace up and dominate on the basketball court with a natural talent that was undeniable. Off the court, his creativity took shape through music. As a gifted rapper and musician, James had a voice that told stories of resilience, pain, love, and hope.

He attended Jumoke Academy on Blue Hills Avenue and later Weaver High School. His tight bond with his mom and brothers was something everyone around him could see, we aren’t just family, we are each other’s world.

In 2019, James began experiencing intense back pain. I remember we went to a preseason game that year, something that should have been a fun, simple outing, but we had to leave early because the pain was unbearable for him. He went in for a CT scan and was diagnosed with a herniated disc. But that diagnosis would prove to be tragically incomplete. For months, James was dismissed and written off by doctors. None of us knew the depth of the pain he was carrying every single day.

Then came January 2020. Around the 15th, James called me in agony, barely able to speak through the pain. He had a doctor’s appointment coming up, and I promised him I’d go with him, we were going to demand answers. But he never made it to that appointment. The pain became too much, and he was rushed to the emergency room. That night, they found a tumor, the size of a grapefruit. I remember the way the world stood still in that moment.

Everything changed after that. Our lives became a blur of hospital visits, appointments, and quiet prayers. During the height of COVID, James had to be transferred to Mass General in Boston because our local hospitals weren’t equipped to care for him. The initial prognosis gave us hope, and we clung to it. But the truth is, we didn’t know what we were facing. We weren’t prepared. And though many of the doctors were kind, the system didn’t give us the time, clarity, or compassion we needed to make the decisions no family should have to face.

By the summer of 2021, James’ condition worsened. The fight became harder. On October 21st, 2021, just 19 days after his 27th birthday, we lost him.

The loss of James left a hole in our hearts that will never be filled. But his spirit lives on, in his music, in his children, in the memories of his laughter, his loyalty, and the love he gave so freely. He was more than a patient, more than a statistic. James was a son. A father. A brother. A soul with dreams, with gifts, and with so much more life to live.

We miss him every day. And we will continue to honor him in every way we can, and give people a chance at a better future.