That Bittersweet Echo
So, here’s the thing. Us Magazine drops this interview, right? On February 13th. But James, he died on February 11th. He’d been battling stage III colorectal cancer. Forty-eight. And the interview itself? It was from November 2022. So he’s talking about his kid, Jeremiah, who was born October 2021, and how this sixth child just completed everything. He’s saying all this, probably with no idea, no inkling, that these words would be published literally days after he passed. That’s some heavy stuff, if you ask me.
He told People – and this is the quote that just hangs in the air – “He’s really been a blessing.” And then, this little aside, “I mean, this is going to sound weird, but when he arrived, we honestly just thought, ‘Oh my God, how did we exist without him?’ Which is insane because we had five children before that.” Insane. Yeah, I get it. Not gonna lie, I’ve heard parents say stuff like that before. You have one, two, three, maybe even five kids, and you think you’re done, you’re complete. Then another one pops out, and suddenly, boom. It’s like a missing piece you never even knew was missing.
The Sixth Sense of Parenthood
And it’s not about the number, really. It’s that feeling. That definitive click. You just know. For some, it’s the first. For others, it’s the third. For James and Kimberly, it was their sixth. Jeremiah. What a beautiful name, by the way. A prophet’s name, meaning “appointed by God.” And it sounds like that’s exactly how they felt about him. Like he was meant to be the capstone, the final note in their symphony.
Six Kids, One ‘Insane’ Realization?
“How did we exist without him?” I mean, come on. That’s just peak parent brain, isn’t it? You’ve got five other humans running around, causing chaos, bringing joy, sucking up all your time and energy, and then number six arrives, and suddenly the previous five years (or however long it’d been since the fifth) feel like a void. Like something vital was missing. It’s completely irrational, totally illogical, and utterly, profoundly human. And that’s why it hits so hard. Because it’s a feeling so many of us can relate to, even if our “insane” realization came with kid number one or two.
“He’s really been a blessing… I mean, this is going to sound weird, but when he arrived, we honestly just thought, ‘Oh my God, how did we exist without him?’ Which is insane because we had five children before that.” – James Van Der Beek on his son, Jeremiah.
It just goes to show you, doesn’t it? That connection, that love, it’s not a diminishing return thing. It just keeps expanding. It’s not a pie you cut into smaller and smaller slices. It’s like… a fire. The more kindling you add, the bigger and warmer it gets. And for James, Jeremiah was that last, perfect piece of kindling.
The Finality of a Blessing
This story, man. It’s just a reminder, a stark one, of how fragile life is. You’re talking about your kid, about feeling complete, about this profound love, and then… poof. Gone. Colorectal cancer at 48. That’s not old, not by a long shot. That’s still in the prime of life, raising a young family. I mean, his kids range from little Jeremiah, who’s not even three, all the way up to Olivia, who’s 13. Thirteen years old. Imagine.
And to think, his last recorded words about his family, the ones that are now making headlines, are about this profound sense of peace and completeness that Jeremiah brought. It’s not about a movie role, or a TV show, or some Hollywood drama. It’s about family. It’s about that deep, almost spiritual connection to his youngest child. That’s what he left us with, what the universe decided would be his final public statement on life.
What This Actually Means
Look, this isn’t just a celebrity news story, not really. This is about a guy, a dad, who got his final blessing, felt that deep, undeniable completion, and then, far too soon, left this world. It’s a gut check for all of us, isn’t it? To really cherish those moments, those feelings. To actually say the things we feel, to our kids, to our partners, to anyone who makes us feel like, “How did I ever exist without you?”
Because you just never know. You really don’t. James Van Der Beek got to feel that deep, profound sense of completeness before he went. And I gotta say, that’s a pretty powerful, albeit heartbreaking, legacy to leave behind. It makes you think about your own blessings, doesn’t it? And whether you’re really appreciating them, right now, in this messy, beautiful, unpredictable life.
