ST. THOMAS, Ontario — Toronto Blue Jays jerseys flooded a quiet community hall Saturday afternoon, the blue and white colors transforming heartbreak into something closer to celebration. There were no somber hymns, no casket, no whispered condolences in a church aisle. Instead, there was laughter — loud, defiant laughter — because that’s exactly how 17-year-old Weslee Johnson wanted it.

Weslee has always known he would not grow old. Born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome, a rare congenital defect in which the left side of the heart is severely underdeveloped, he has spent his life in hospitals, operating rooms, and recovery wards. Multiple surgeries. Endless medications. And, for three long years, hope on a transplant waiting list that ultimately never delivered the miracle his family prayed for.

“We went to Toronto in November 2022 and were placed on the transplant list,” his mother, Jennah Johnson, said, recalling the beginning of a wait that stretched painfully on. “We waited more than three years for a heart that never came. Now his other organs have been so damaged by his failing heart that his body can’t handle a transplant anymore.”

Doctors have told the family that Weslee likely has only weeks left. He has been brought home from Toronto’s renowned Hospital for Sick Children — better known as SickKids — to spend his remaining time surrounded by family, friends, and familiarity.

And so instead of planning a funeral, they planned a celebration of life — while he is still here to hear every word.

“Wes said he didn’t want a funeral,” Jennah explained. “He literally looked at me and said, ‘If people have something to say to me, they should say it now, not later.’”

That sentence alone reshaped everything.

Dozens gathered to share stories, inside jokes, and memories that stretched back to childhood classrooms and backyard games. There were tears, yes — but they mixed with smiles. “Being able to spend this day with him while he’s in such good spirits and relatively good health compared to what’s coming is really special,” Jennah said. “It’s a memory for us. It’s a positive memory for his siblings.”

Weslee, soft-spoken but sharp-witted, admits he copes with dark humor. “I just try not to think about it too much,” he said quietly. “Our family uses dark humor to get through.”

If there was one thing that consistently lit up his face Saturday, it was baseball. A lifelong Blue Jays superfan, Weslee asked guests to wear team colors in tribute. Then came the moment that stunned the room: a surprise video message from Blue Jays outfielder Davis Schneider.

“What’s up, Wes? I’m Davis Schneider from the Blue Jays,” the outfielder said in the clip. “I heard you’re a big Jays fan, so I just want to thank you for all your support. I hope you have an awesome time at your party with your friends and family.”

The room erupted. Weslee beamed.

There is more. A recent online fundraiser raised more than $16,000 to send him to Dunedin, Florida — the Blue Jays’ spring training home — to fulfill his final wish: attending a spring training game. A family friend purchased the tickets. Schneider, in his message, added one more promise: “I heard you’re coming down here in a few weeks. I can’t wait to meet you.”

That game has become a beacon.

“In the past week, there were days we weren’t sure he’d make it to today,” Jennah admitted. “But he pushed through. He’s holding on, and he’s looking forward to that game.”

Weslee is, in so many ways, a typical teenager. He loves video games. He loves sports. He graduated high school with honors despite his deteriorating health. He earned his driver’s license. He served on a patient advisory council during his time at SickKids, advocating for other children navigating similar battles.

He draws inspiration from Tim McGraw’s song “Live Like You Were Dying,” a fitting anthem for a young man who understands time differently than most. “I just try to live each day like it’s my last and stay positive,” Weslee said.

Now, his final chapter is unfolding not in sterile hospital corridors, but at home — surrounded by laughter, baseball caps, and the echo of words spoken while they still matter.

As devastating as the prognosis is, Jennah hopes her son’s story carries one urgent message beyond the baseball diamond. She wants people to register as organ donors. She wants other families spared this wait, this heartbreak, this ending without the transplant that never came.

Weslee Johnson’s heart may be failing, but the impact he is leaving behind is anything but weak. And somewhere between a Blue Jays jersey and a spring training ticket lies a simple, powerful truth he has already mastered: say what you need to say now — and live without regret.