Dad Of 2 Girls Lost In Fire, Finds Strength In Lives 'Defined By Joy'

SOUTHAMPTON, NY — Lew Wiener, who lost his two daughters, Jillian, 21, and Lindsay, 19, in a tragic Southampton fire two weeks ago while his family was on vacation, has faced the most shattering and unthinkable experience a parent can endure.

And, what makes that night even more heartbreaking is that the vacation was planned knowing that it might be his last with his family — he has inoperable pancreatic cancer, Wiener said.

Despite their pain, Lew and his wife, Alisa, are finding a way forward through the grief, lifted up by thousands who've rallied to share memories of their beautiful girls, and who have wrapped them in their collective arms.

They refuse, he said, to let that night, that dark, terrible night, be the story for which their girls are remembered. Instead, the couple, as well as their son Zach, who survived the blaze by jumping from a second-story window, choose to remember the joy their daughters brought to the lives of the many who loved them.

"That night defines a tragic ending — but our lives are defined by our joy," Wiener said.

The Wieners, who live in Maryland, have received an outpouring of support from all corners, including the Washington Hebrew Congregation, where Lew is president.

At their funeral, the sisters, as in life, were side by side, blankets from their respective colleges draped lovingly over their coffins.

Lindsay's friends and sorority sisters, seeking a way to help, have organized a fundraiser, with sweatshirts being sold adorned with her initials, L.W., in a heart.

The Lindsay Weiner Memorial Sweatshirt was designed "in loving memory of our beautiful bubbly sister, Lindsay Wiener," the description read. "Lindsay knew how to light up every room she walked into and knew how to put a smile on anyone's face. A friend to all, her vibrance was remarkable. We are so grateful to have had her as part of the Tulane and Kappa community.Our Kappa sisters created this sweatshirt to honor Lindsay’s legacy and to spread the love, laughter, and joy that she shared with us each and every day. Wear them with pride, love, and in memory of Lindsay. We hope that you will live everyday to the fullest and enjoy the small things in life, just as Lindsay would have."

A portion of the profits will be donated to the Tulane Lindsay Wiener Memorial Fund. Tulane established the fund in her name. The sweatshirts are available for purchase here.

Speaking at his daughter's funeral, Wiener told those gathered that the way they could help his family was to continue to share the news of their own children's lives, the graduations, the celebrations, the love. And to always, always remember his daughters, sharing stories of their lives.

"What I didn't realize was that what we were doing was giving people a vocabulary to express their grief. We showed them how — and they returned that. It was amazing," Wiener said.

Friends of both girls turned up at their house during the days after the funeral, filling the home with laughter, love, and the joy of precious moments shared, many captured on videos his family had never seen, he said.

Reflecting on why the family had chosen the Hamptons for their vacation, Wiener said he'd visited in 1982 and 1983. "This was really the first time I'd been back in 40 years. We'd asked the kids earlier this year, 'Where do you want to go this summer?' Usually we go to the Outer Banks. But they all said they wanted to go to the Hamptons. And I was thrilled to go back to a place I've had very fond memories of."

The first days of the vacation were perfect, including dinners at The Maidstone and the Palm.

"We were all there together, and we had a whole week planned, of places we were going to go. The girls suggested a whole bunch of restaurants and we were going out! It was, 'Let's dress up and let's go out and really enjoy the week together.'"

Jillian, his oldest daughter, had spent a summer in Turks and Caicos. She loved the water and the reefs, he said.

After she returned, she'd been home a few days and then, after one night, when asked where she was going that night, Jillian, he said, told her parents, "I'm just staying in. I kind of like you guys.' From a 21-year-old, that's high praise. She just wanted to watch a movie with us. That was really nice."

The days had taken on new meaning, after Wiener was diagnosed with a terminal disease.

"It's no secret in our community. I've got cancer," Wiener said. "I've been preparing to say good-bye to my girls for two years. I just didn't know that we would lose them first."

He added: "I'd already reconciled myself to the fact that I was not going to walk them down the aisle, that I was not going to be a grandfather. I needed to figure out how to say good-bye to them. Last week was that good-bye," he said.

Diagnosed in June 2020, he was on chemo for four months and was cancer-free from that October, until December 2021, when a scan came back indicating that the cancer returned. In the months since, Wiener has been responding very well to chemo, he said.

But since he learned about the cancer, his family gained a greater appreciation for every beautiful day spent together.

"That's why this vacation, any time with my girls, my family, was so important," he said.

Throughout his career as an attorney, Wiener traveled the world, from Washington D.C., to London, Asia, Chicago, the Middle East, and loved the adventure.

But when he was diagnosed, during the pandemic, the time gave Wiener a chance to revel in the stillness, to learn from his own children what gave life true meaning.

"They live in the present —and they gave me that extraordinary ability to be present. What I didn't realize the gift they were giving me, by being present. Living in the present, I found myself just appreciating the time that we had together."

His children, he said, took the time to ask how he was doing, how he was feeling.

"It’s important to tell the people you love that you love them," he said. "I never wanted my family, my friends to question that. I know I have limited time to tell people that, and I wanted my girls to know, and my son. There was always a hug, always a kiss. We tell each other that we love each other liberally. I never wanted that to be something, whether in five years or 50, that they ever had to worry about."

The night of the "horrific fire," he said, they'd all shared a great dinner and before going to sleep he'd gone to the room where all were watching a movie.

His daughter, Lindsay, was curled up, contorted in a funny position in the chair, he said.

At the funeral, he spoke directly to his daughters, recalling their last moments together: "Lindsay, I asked you to stand up and give me a hug. . .You did, followed by a kiss on the cheek. You told me you loved me. I asked Jillian to stand up and I got a hug, and kissed your cheek. I told you I loved you and you told me you loved me. I will always have the blessing of knowing the last thing we said to each other was, 'I love you.'" he said. "I will always feel the warmth of those hugs."

He added: "I will have that gift, knowing those were our last words, and that does bring me comfort."

The girls were asleep in the home when the fire broke out.

According to Southampton Town Police, Wiener, 60, his wife Alisa, 52, and his son Zachary, 23, as well as his daughters, were vacationing from Potomac, Maryland. The children were sleeping on the second floor at 3:35 a.m., when the fire broke out, and the parents were sleeping on the first floor; Lewis Weiner awakened to the sound of glass breaking and screamed for his family to get out, police said.

He and his wife escaped the burning home, police said. When they realized the children hadn't exited the house, Wiener tried desperately to gain entry back in; however, the flames prevented him from gaining access, police said. The couple's son Zachary had escaped by leaping out of a second-story window, police said.

"Tragically the two daughters were unable to escape," police said.

On Thursday, Southampton Town Public Safety and Emergency Management Administrator Ryan Murphy told Patch that the investigation is ongoing. There was no rental permit in place for the property, and while there were smoke detectors, because firefighters at the scene did not hear them going off, it is unclear if they were working, he said.

Reflecting on the months before the fire, Wiener said while he was faced with a cancer diagnosis, he never felt a tailspin, a loss of control.

"The decision of whether tomorrow is going to be a bad day, I control that," he said. "Being present, and in control, is really important — that's why this vacation was so important for our family."

The reality is, he said, "I don't know if I'm going to be around next summer. I hope I will. My goal was to get to Jillian's graduation in May. Every chemo, every bit of bloodwork, every indication that the tumors aren't growing brought me one step closer to that goal."

His next goal was to be Lindsay's graduation from Tulane.

"Going to parents' weekends at Michigan, Tulane — to me those weren't just things. Those were goals, those were important benchmarks. I needed to get there. While I can't really control what's going on in my body, my attitude, I can help. That's why that vacation, being together, the things we were doing, were so important, such a blessing."

The memories are in every corner. "I mourn their loss," he said.

But when the smiling faces images of lives lived in love flood his home computer, the family pictures from so many blessedly beautiful days, they bring joy.

Memories of Jillian, writing and drawing on all the eggs in the refrigerator. "One said, 'I am a muffin.' She looked at me, with no hint of a smile and said, 'Dad, even eggs have dreams,'" he said.

The girls were very different, but equally loved by all. Jillian was more comfortable in smaller groups; Lindsay reveled in a crowd. "She'd say, '17 of us are going out tonight,'" he said. "They were each happy in their own way and gave love as much as they received it."

So many of the girls' friends shared precious moments, Wiener said: One young man at Jillian's college, the University of Michigan, told him that she'd made him feel comfortable, buying kosher food so that he could enjoy Rosh Hashanah dinner far from home.

"Forget about being her parent, her father, just to know that as a person, she went out of her way to do that for him, that was very special," he said.

At the synagogue on the day of his daughters' funeral, there were 2,000 gathered; about 20,000 watched on livestream. "I can't get my arms around that," Wiener said. "It’s overwhelming but it’s who my girls were — they cared a lot about people and it brings me comfort that people are thinking about, remembering, grieving for my girls."

At the funeral, although their faces were streaked with tears and sometimes, it was difficult to speak, those who shared memories shed light and reflected on the girls who'd touched thousands of hearts in their short lives.

Both of his daughters, loved their respective colleges. Jillian was thrilled to have found her path, pursuing environmental science, while Lindsay blossomed at Tulane. "She was so excited to be going back," she said.

When asked what gives him and his wife the courage to go forward during the darkest of times, Wiener said, "Jillian was a fighter." Even when an injury derailed her hockey dreams, she found yoga. Lindsay, he said, "was a resourceful child," for whom school did not come easily, but who handled challenges with a self-effacing, honest approach, her own greatest advocate, he said.

And, all agreed, she loved celebrations, especially birthdays, working tirelessly to give those she loved a special day. She was also deeply devoted to her faith and to stamping out anti-Semitism.

Zach hugged his father for a long moment before walking up to speak at the service, resting his hands on the coffins of his sisters. "Thank you for making me a big brother," he said. "Being your older brother is what I am and forever will be most proud of."

"Each of them had their super powers," Wiener said. "They really were comfortable with themselves. My greatest gift from them was learning how to really be present — to get the most out of every day."

He and Jillian shared silly conversations, free association and questions about what kinds of dinosaurs they'd be, in the car. "Jillian would want me to fight," he said.

Lindsay's nickname as a baby was "Happy," Wiener said. "She would want us to be happy," he said. "My way of honoring them is to conduct myself consistently with what they would have wanted me to do. We are blessed to have children wise beyond their years."

The grief is just a heartbeat way. "Not a day will go by where I don't miss and grieve for my daughters," he said, his voice laced with tears. "It's the worst thing you could ever imagine and you don't move on from it. You learn to live with it. And their memories are really a blessing."

Wiener said he and his wife and son, faced with the unimaginable, choose not to dwell in a place where tragedy shapes their story.

Wiener feels blessed by the incredible community who has enveloped his family with love.

"I don't spend time thinking, 'Why me?'" he said. "You don't waste time on that. You just keep moving forward. The true definition of humility is recognizing the need for other people’s help and most importantly, accepting it."

The one thing that's fueling his ability to move ahead is the message he wants to share with the so many who've shown love to his family. "It's okay to need help and okay to accept it," Wiener said. "Let's be strong for one another. If you lean against each other, you have to be as strong as the other person, otherwise the whole thing topples over. I have no use for pity or sympathy. I don't have the emotional bandwidth for that. Share your strength with me."

He added: "Do not define us by our loss, but by the blessing that was Jillian and Lindsay."

His daughters, Wiener said, not only taught him the most important life lesson, about living in every blessed moment. "They taught me the importance of being happy," he said.