Leonard Abbeduto was born and raised in Chicago and moved to California in 2011. After 40 years in academia, he is retired and exploring new creative activities.
Leonard Abbeduto was born and raised in Chicago and moved to California in 2011. After 40 years in academia, he is retired and exploring new creative activities.
Alwiya, my daughter-in-law, died the evening of February 11, 2025, in Rochester, Minnesota. She was only 36. She had traveled there with my son, Mack, to take part in a clinical trial at the Mayo Clinic. It was her second such trial; the first had been at the University of Washington, where she also worked. Despite years of cutting-edge treatments — two brain surgeries, countless medications tailored to the specific gene driving her cancer, and an extraordinary will to live — Alwiya ultimately lost her battle
When she was first diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer in 2019, which had already spread to her brain, the statistics were grim: a five-year survival rate at best. She lived just a few months beyond that mark. Still, even with more than five years to prepare, her death felt sudden. The reality struck me again: we are never truly ready for the loss of someone we love
Just two months before her death, scans at Mayo showed a remarkably positive response to the experimental treatment. While not a cure, it gave us hope for more time. Young, strong, and disciplined in her care — she was a physician herself — Alwiya seemed ready to defy the odds
But two days before her return to Mayo, her symptoms escalated: nausea, weakness, dizziness, and small seizures. At the clinic she was admitted immediately, and the test results that followed erased our optimism. Her condition deteriorated rapidly
By Friday, Alwiya, her husband Mack, and her medical team decided she should go “home” with hospice. For them, home meant a short-term rental apartment near Mayo, one of the many costly, temporary residences that surround the hospital for patients, doctors, and medical students
A week later, on Tuesday, February 11, she passed away. Mack was at her side. Two of her seven siblings were present as well. I arrived minutes later, embracing my son and sharing tears with Alwiya’s family. I had a few moments alone with her, enough time to kiss her forehead and tell her how deeply she was loved — not only by Mack, but by all of us. She had been the perfect partner for my son and an irreplaceable part of our family. She filled spaces we didn’t know were empty until she arrived, bringing light, energy, and joy
Months have passed, and there are still days when I momentarily forget she is gone. The reality always returns quickly, but the sadness tends to reach me even before the memory of her final moments does.
~Leonard Abbeduto