Obituary
What a gift to share life together with Abigail Grace Wheeler. All too soon, at the age of forty-three, Abby died gracefully, on a summer day, at home, on August 29, 2026. She was the most thoughtful and kindhearted person you could know. Like the shimmering sight of a purple hummingbird that you wish you could hold onto, Abby kept the feeders full so we could know her sweetness and care. She was loved and will be missed.
Abby’s heart was intertwined with family: younger brother, Clark (Chiedza); sister, Emily (Jared) – their blossoming kids, Wesley and Naomi, were an ebullient joy for Abby. Along with her dad, Lonnie, who passed in 2020, and mom, Martie, Abby’s family includes her Uncle Dave Kuhl (Cathie), as well as Martie’s two deceased brothers, Tom and Dick Kuhl. Their tight-knit extended family spends every holiday keeping up with each other – celebrating and weathering the highs and lows of life.
Born April 2, 1983, Abby grew up in New Richmond, upriver from Cincinnati, Ohio. As the firstborn and oldest sibling, she just knew best; she wanted people to be taken care of. Abby was a role model with her academic acuity and in her full-selfed activities, like synchronized swimming and the arts: the love of language sinking roots. Her example was not that others should do the same things, but that they should find their own paths – not alone but all together. Abby was the best gift-giver because she intuitively knew what you would like, more than you knew yourself.
Like her family, her high school friend group recognized that she was quiet and observant, with a wry, surprising humor, and a gentle yet direct nature. Abby was true to herself. She attended Denison University, where her pattern of forging friendship was followed with those who somehow landed in Beta House freshman year. She had a knack for curating small joys, like arranging both colorful rocks and the books themselves, in rainbow order on a bookshelf.
Everyone knew she was soft-spoken and somewhat mysterious, but it was her sarcastic wit, her sense of adventure, and her intimate inclusiveness that resonated so deeply with others. This carried over to an Americorps stint tutoring students in Entiat, Washington, where Abby picked fruit, built snowmen, and went camping with her newfound life companions. Her interior landscape was as vast as the North Cascades.
Returning home and for the next decade, Abby worked as a copywriter for School Outfitters – close friends can even be found at work. Along the way, the use of words needed a new container, and Abby embodied poetry as a way of expressing her innate sense of paying attention to the world around her. She loved native plants and trees – their resilience and beauty – the birds and creatures inhabiting our shared environment. She knew the rituals of days, the rhythms of seasons, and the rootedness of place.
Joining writing circles at Women Writing for (a) Change helped develop her voice as a natural writer – a poet of nature – and led to the publication of her chapbook, In the Roots. Her poems have been featured in numerous journals – we should revisit them often. An online assemblage of disparate writers that formed after a workshop became a sustaining fountain of sharing poetry. She brought her true self to her work.
Abby met her husband, Jon, at a coffee shop, and with love leading the way, the two bought a house in Bond Hill and were married in the backyard in 2020. Their trips to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, Northern Michigan, and the coast of Maine, were sources of elemental connection. Abby would spend the day plucking interesting rocks and shells from a riverbed or shoreline. At home, they could be found engrossed in 00’s-era shows and rooting on the Reds. She was a steadfast presence for Jon’s kids, Aya and Van, who grew up learning from her quirky cool creativity – their home has been a communal hub for Coffee on the House gatherings, the annual Cider Press, and Ham Party, aka Hamstravaganza. True love will find you in the end.
We all also witnessed Abby’s determined conviction. She always acted with a sense of equity, justice, and compassion; she imagined and made the world a better place. From an early age, Abby had a complicated relationship with her own body. It was Crohn’s that meant countless doctors’ visits and procedures. And it was colon cancer that led to a massive surgery and then metastasized – treatments, scans, and hospital stays were par for her course. But it wasn’t disease that defined her life, which baffled and endeared the medical community. Abby simply lived. She processed it all in her own quiet and determined way; she never complained, and staying true in spite of it all is what makes her story so profoundly inspiring.
Oftentimes, we say ‘there are no words’ when there are too many words, when it is too painful and difficult, when life is disorienting. If Abby has taught us anything, it is that there are words – you just have to tend the soil in the garden of your soul; and discover what comes up in the shared vulnerability and strength of your family, friends, and community. Of the many scattered scraps of paper with her luminous musings, here’s one that Abby lived by and we can all take to heart: ‘never let your grace fall.’
Celebration of Life
Abby’s family invites you to join us in-person or online for a celebration of life to honor her life and legacy.
Wear something purple!
In-Person
Sunday October 18, 2026
11:00am EDT – Coffee, Tea, and Snacks
12:00pm EDT – Service
The Mercantile Library
414 Walnut St – 11th Floor,
Cincinnati, OH 45202
Wear something purple!
To view the recording, register here:
The Turning Point
It was impossible to say exactly when it happened:
When the sun rose, she saw the thread-thin tendril
of the sweet pea pointing ambiguously any old way.
And by the time the big pink circle sank,
that little finger had wrapped itself so tightly
around its destiny, she couldn’t help but nod
and resolve to do the same.
– from Abby’s chapbook, In the Roots
Photo Gallery
One Second Every Day
Abby recorded this video from 2015-2016. Here are her own words:
“On August 14, 2015, I began recording one second of video every day. There was no goal or motivation except to try it out and see what happened. As it turns out, I like what happened! And today, I get to share the result.
Thank you to friends and family who visibly gave shape to my year, and to those who were there in spirit. As you can see, one second hardly encapsulates a day, but certainly has the power and potential to hold a bounty of beauty.
In the words of Colum McCann: The world spins. We stumble on. It is enough.”
Dontations
In lieu of flowers please consider donating to one of these worthy groups:
Women Writing for (a) Change
Abby had a profoundly connecting experience through Women Writing. Help provide resources for future writers.
Transform
Offering affirming care to transgender youth and community support for LGBTQ+ folks is at the heart of Abby’s view of human dignity.
Cincinnati Animal CARE
Abby’s love for animals extended from her own pets to these who need homes. Consider giving or adopting!
Guest Book
Please use this section to share your own feelings, stories, photos, and poems to honor Abby together with everyone who loves her.
recollections.
We met at a time that was pregnant for both
Sitting on the steps of alms park
Sitting on the precipice of divergent journeys
Meeting you felt like a mirror
You are. were someone that I could just be with
Shared love of craft. Collecting. Trinkets.
Small mementos filled with an emotion left without words
Open to seeing the world so much bigger
Spending nights knitting. Petting cats. Being licked by said cat.
Watching dumb tv.
Sharing some snarky comments about shared experiences.
You were unhappy with writing copy and ‘health stuff’
I was restarting life
In that pregnant space
we sat with each other
Laughed with each other
Cooked with each other
Created with each other
Gossiped with each other
I found love and you approved
Probably enjoyed her more than me as do most
We spent more time together
Then we saw you and you told us
“I met a gentleman at a coffee shop”
He was the best for you
And we saw you less as time moves
I had hoped we would reconnect when my mothering days began to slow down
Life does not follow the path that you expect
Takes the ones who feel like home from the first
Purple. Cacti. Colored pyrex. Shelves of treasures.
Inside out ziploc bags drying, ready for their 10th use
A shared response when asked “what are you thinking about?”
‘nothing. I’m seeing the world around me.’
Abby and I met at a book club when I first moved to town (2018). I remember being drawn to how gentle, gracious, smart she was– I loved getting time to talk with her and soon joined a Women’s Writing for a Change small group with her. Years have passed and we stayed connected through our shared love of writing and creativity– meeting up every so often to discuss ideas and life or saving each other seats at a lecture or talk.
My favorite rhythm that we found together was writing at the Mercantile on Wednesdays. We’d share a poem and some prompts, write for a bit, and then come back together to share. We did that for at least this past year, not every Wednesday, but a lot of them. It turned into sharing so much more. I will always treasure that time. Abby was always a “yes” friend. Abby made time for everyone and was always so present. So kind. So quick to share loving stories of her family. She cared so deeply.
I’ve spent these past couple months rereading a lot of Abby’s poetry. What a rich gift she has left us with. Abby was an incredible writer. Her poetry is breathtaking. I will miss her so much, but I know she’s OK, somewhere marveling at the beauty of everything, like her poetry tells us.
Our family had the privilege of knowing the Wheelers since 1993, when Abby was about 10 years old. Abby was always a special person, and many of the words used in her obituary stand out in our memories of Abby – graceful, thoughtful, kindhearted, compassionate. Those are the characteristics we remember about Abby, and how we will always remember her. Our hearts go out to her loving family and friends in this difficult time.
As I’ve said before, and will again, Abby has always been a source of inspiration for me. Her courage, strength, and perseverance is something very rare. I always loved her, and I’m thankful she was, and will continue to be, part of my life.
Setting aside how caring, kind, and sweet she always was, which goes without saying, her spirit inspires me.
I’m thankful for her, and, more generally, this entire family. This is something very special.
Abby, I love you. I miss you.
Abby was such a wonderful person. Never had a harsh word about anyone and you just felt comfortable around her. She will be missed and will always be loved.
I met Abby through my husband, Will Smithson, as they were friends from back in their AmeriCorps days in Entiat, Washington. We’ve been able to visit Abby and Jon for the past several years at the end of our family trips and had so much fun exploring Cincinnati with both of them. Abby was always so thoughtful and welcoming during our time together, and was sure to make the time together special. We bonded over our shared love of animals, the environment, and being gentle and kind humans during our time on this earth. I always appreciated Abby’s take on things and her wit, and was in awe of her creativity and her writing. And of course, I love hearing all the old AmeriCorps stories from her perspective. I will forever think of Abby anytime I see the Los Rojos playing, and am grateful to have gotten to know her.
Abby was a staff reporter (and photographer) for our high school newspaper, The Messenger. You’d regularly find her on the last page as a Taste Crusadette, reviewing the very best of local restaurants.
Panera on Beechmont was … “a touch of class”
Michael G’s was …. “classy and elegant” (obviously, wasn’t there a pool??)
Blue Haven in Bethel was one word: … “elderly”
I often wondered if The Messenger provided a stipend for these anonymous tastings. Did the restaurants know?? Attached you can find a clipping of the exciting first review of Chipotle coming to the area.
Abby was always game to try a new place or give a great local recommendation. I remember a chili-cook-off or two at Grays Lane over the holidays. It was a blast.
I’ve known Abby since 8th grade when I moved to New Richmond, and she was the glue that held every friend group she was in together. She was a bridge builder and made everyone feel important. She was universally loved by those who knew her. Even in differences of opinions, she was always kind and respectful, never rude.
I’ve spent the last few weeks combing through old texts, instant messages, emails, letters and postcards of our correspondence. I’ve laughed, cried, smiled, and wrestled with the thought of her not being with us any longer. I will be sharing future anecdotes and things I’ve discovered because the mark Abby left on us will never be forgotten — living on in all of our memories and hearts.
I knew Abby as a poet first and foremost (through Women Writing for (a) Change) and also as a community builder (through her Coffee on the House events). She was so talented, it’s difficult to describe. If you know her writing, then you’ve already experienced it. She could free write a poem in ten minutes that’s publication-worthy and jaw-dropping. Her writing is just that good. I looked up to and respected Abby deeply. And when she and Jon opened their home to friends, to close and loose connections, magic was made. She made me feel so included. Abby and Jon’s gentle, kind, loving way is something I aspire to. I should’ve asked Abby to share this poem she wrote during our free write at the Mercantile Library with me, so I could keep it. Maybe it’s in a journal somewhere. Her wry smile was my favorite. I’m so grateful to have been in Abby’s orbit. Love you, Abby.
I had the honor of having Abby in my life from around the time she started hanging with Jon. She has impacted our lives in more ways than I can describe here. She spurred my interest in native plants and poetry. She inspired me to do 1-second videos each year, which brings me so much joy every year. We camped, we built community, we played games, we read poetry, we talked about food/gardening, we made cider, we watched baseball, and so much more. She lived the most authentic life, true to herself, and challenged people to find their authenticity. I cherish our friendship, the memories, and the fact that my family and I were able to share our lives together. She is truly missed, and the world has lost such a lovely soul.
I met Abby in the Summer of 2018 when we both participated in a weekly writing circle. We were in that community together for three years. Abby also presented her writing at a V-Day event with me, standing up against gender-based violence. We met in other settings as well, as friends and fellow poets. We shared a love of nature, a fondness for rocks and trees and birds that cemented our friendship. Abby was a remarkably kind, generous, transparent, and honest person.
I once heard James Taylor begin a concert by saying “I do not present a part of myself. I do not present a version of myself. I present myself.” This, too, was Abby. With her magic with words, her love of both words and the world, Abby permeated every chamber of my heart and took up residence. She is there still, always.
Abby was such an amazing and beautiful person. And this site is such a beautiful space for us to all share. It’s been so meaningful to read these words and see all the photos both on the site and in the guest book comments. I had forgotten about her One Second Every Day video — that was so special and so Abby.
The sunrise on August 30 was a calm reflection of Abby’s spirit.
A few more pictures
Here are some snapshots of little Abby
Hey brother, sending all the love to you and Abby’s family. I felt privileged to get to know her: kind, gentle, witty, a great listener, and someone who adored you–is how I will always remember her.
// Raz
2 of 2 – Dad’s reflections about Abby
Before our dad passed, Abby got him a gift that sent him writing prompts periodically, and then she was able to have the ones he finished put into a book. I thought I’d share what he wrote about her in one of his responses: (1 of 2)
I just heard the devastating news about Abby today. When I was a kid, I was lucky enough to spend a lot of time with the Wheelers and Abby was about as close as I got to having a big sister. I was always hanging out with Clark, but whenever Abby was around she’d say hi and ask how I was doing. As a fellow quiet kid, it was always reassuring to see Abby who was reading all the time or outside enjoying the woods or simple just being, and knowing that there were big kids out there doing the things I liked to do.
After high school, I didn’t get to see Abby much but we reconnected on Facebook, and I got to follow along with what she did as an adult and it was no less reassuring to still have one of the big kids showing me how to live as yourself and try to find the good wherever it might be tucked away. We’d talk about the state of the world, how crazy things have gotten, but how much beauty there still is.
I don’t think anyone was better at bringing ease to concern and finding a way to use one’s worry and energy to build up and carry positivity forward.
Abby was one of the best of us and things are a lot cloudier knowing she’s gone. But I’m sure she’d just remind us that with the clouds come the rain. And we need the rain to wash away the bad and help grow the good.
I sure am glad I got to share some of my time here with someone so committed to growing the good.