Angel

An Update.

13 years ago, I took this photo of Gretchen standing in front of a painting called Angel by Abbott Handerson Thayer at the Smithsonian in DC. Until today, I hadn’t thought about this photo—or this painting—in years. It was buried in an album from our trip, one of over 100 photos. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered scrolling through the whole album when Facebook suggests a Memory like this. But today, I did. I think I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately.

Ever since the girls were born, Gretchen and I have kept journals for them—places to write little stories, milestones, and advice. Over time, these journals evolved into more of a labor of love from Gretchen, especially after her cancer diagnosis. She’s always been diligent about writing in them, but lately, she’s been writing even more.

The reason is hard to share: Gretchen has exhausted all available chemo options. None of them have been effective for her. Her doctor recently told us that her latest treatment wasn’t working—the tumor in her liver has continued to grow despite it. Now, the tumor is so large that it’s pressing into her ribcage, making basic things—breathing, sleeping, sitting, lying down—excruciatingly difficult. Pain medications offer little relief unless they completely knock her out. For someone as active and driven as Gretchen, this has been frustrating and heartbreaking.

And yet, she continues. She journals for the girls. She laughs with us. She gives everything she has to make memories with the people she loves. Gretchen is still here, doing what she’s always done—showing up as the strong, compassionate, funny, and thoughtful person we all know and love.

Earlier today, while scrolling through that old photo album, I heard Gretchen sneeze. A second later, I heard her crying from the pain. And there I was, staring at this photo of her standing in front of Angel. It hit me all at once how much strength it takes to live through something like this every day, with the grace and determination she shows.

Over the years, Gretchen has shared parts of her story. But as time went on, she realized she didn’t like the attention that came with sharing the hard moments. She doesn’t want pity. She doesn’t want tears or prayers or calls and messages about how sad this is.

Instead, she wants something better: be kind to one another. Do a good deed for your neighbor. Make a stranger laugh. Be authentically yourself around everyone. Be awkward. Be giggly. Be helpful. Find gratitude in all moments—good, bad, or mundane. That’s the kind of energy Gretchen brings to the world, and it’s what she hopes all of us will carry forward.

*Angel, 1887. Oil on canvas by Abbott Handerson Thayer. Smithsonian American Art Museum.