Josh from Rock to the Future here.
In January 2025, my life changed overnight when I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The months that followed were filled with chemotherapy, hospital rooms, endless appointments, and, in June, a 12 hour Whipple procedure. It was one of the biggest mountains I’ve ever had to climb. Thankfully, the surgery was successful, and for a brief moment I heard the words I had been praying for: I was cancer-free.
But life has a way of rewriting chapters we thought were finished. In March 2026, my nine-month scan came back abnormal. The cancer had returned, and this time it had spread to the lymph nodes in my neck. I was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. The news shattered me.
For a while, it felt like the ground beneath my feet had disappeared. But over the last months, something else has grown in its place… hope. Since April, I’ve stepped away from Rock to the Future so I could focus on treatment at Fox Chase, spend precious time with my family, and pour my heart into writing music.
Those first students kept showing up five days a week. They weren’t just learning music, they were finding confidence, discovering who they were, and realizing they belonged somewhere. As they grew, we grew with them.
We celebrated victories, walked beside them through difficult seasons, wrote music together, and even drove some of them to their very first day of college. Watching students discover their purpose felt like watching tiny sparks become campfires, each one bright enough to light someone else’s path.
Years later, many of those same students still reach out. They’ve invited us to college graduations, weddings, and asked for advice as they’ve built careers and families of their own. Some have even come back to work at Rock to the Future or serve on our board. That’s the kind of legacy you never see when you’re planting the first seed.
Then life gave me another incredible gift, my son, Max.
He reminds me every day that joy doesn’t wait for perfect circumstances. It’s found in bedtime stories, going down slides, building block marble tracks, and laughing until your stomach hurts. Through his eyes, every ordinary day feels like an adventure, and he reminds me that the smallest moments often become the biggest memories.
There are still students waiting to discover their confidence. More songs waiting to be written. More schools and neighborhoods to work with. I’ve realized that the most meaningful work we do is rarely about seeing the finish line ourselves. It’s about planting trees whose shade we may never sit under, trusting that one day someone else will.
So I’ll keep planting. I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep fighting. And I’ll keep believing that hope, like music, has a way of reaching people long after the last note has been played.
If you’d like to follow my journey, support my fight against cancer, or listen to some of the music that’s helped carry me through this season, I’ve included links to my CaringBridge page, Spotify, and GoFundMe below.
Thank you for reading, for believing in Rock to the Future, and for believing in me.
