Andrea Gibson was a winner today. On July 14th, 2025, at 4:16 a.m., Andrea Gibson passed away peacefully at home, surrounded by their wife, Meg; four ex-girlfriends who had remained steadfastly in their life; their devoted mother and father; dozens of close friends; and their three beloved dogs.
It was a scene of love, connection, and profound gratitude—exactly the kind of ending Andrea had imagined for themselves: full of heart, full of people, full of presence. Andrea’s 49 years on this planet were rich with purpose, art, advocacy, and love.
The current Poet Laureate of Colorado, Andrea was an internationally celebrated spoken word artist, author of seven books, Calais, Maine High School state basketball champion, and the luminous subject of the award-winning documentary Come See Me in the Good Light.
In every chapter of their life, Andrea infused the world with brave tenderness, searing honesty, and an unwavering devotion to truth and beauty. Since being diagnosed with cancer in 2021, Andrea transformed their life into a beacon for others navigating grief, illness, and mortality.
Rather than retreat from the pain, they danced with it. With humor, grit, and the deep soul of a poet, Andrea met the hardest moments with open arms—choosing again and again to orient their compass toward joy.
Through their essays, performances, Instagram videos, and interviews, Andrea invited others to look for miracles in the mundane and meaning in the mess. They taught us how to stay awake to the wonder of being alive—even when facing the inevitability of death.
One of the last things Andrea said before leaving this plane was, “I fucking loved my life.” And we believe them. We believe them because they told us with every poem, every performance, every hug, and every trembling line that life was something worth worshiping, even in its most brutal forms.
Not long ago, Andrea wrote a poem titled Love Letter from the Afterlife, which included the line:
“I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined.”
In their absence, this line feels like a promise. Andrea’s spirit has not left us—it has expanded. Their voice will echo in every page they wrote, every stage they stood on, every person they touched with their wild, sacred words.
Andrea once said they wanted to leave this world with their heart covered in stretch marks—proof that it had been stretched in every direction by love, loss, joy, and sorrow. And they did. Andrea got their wish.
There is no easy way to encapsulate a soul as vibrant and boundless as Andrea Gibson’s. Meg and Heather, the authors of this message and two of the many people who loved Andrea fiercely, openly admit they are still figuring out how to tell Andrea’s story.
But they promise to keep writing it, to keep speaking it, to keep Andrea’s memory alive in every poem, every protest, every celebration of the human spirit. To all those grieving today: Andrea would want you to laugh through your tears, to hold each other tightly, and to keep choosing love in the face of it all.
Andrea Gibson, your light remains. Thank you for showing us how to live, how to feel, how to love, and how to let go.
