Gail Rector

Gail Rector died peacefully at home under a properly dramatic Pisces blood moon on the night of September 7, 2025. She met her death with humor, grace, dignity, and courage, and was held by her family as she began her journey to what comes next. Gail overcame many obstacles during her life, and always believed that she "had more growing to do". Diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of breast cancer in 2022, her determination and strong will won her three additional years to grow, take walks in the woods with her dog, garden in her beautiful yard, knit and do other creative projects, de-hoard her house, spend time with friends and family, and watch her beloved grandson start high school.

A self-proclaimed hippie, Gail was born in Oakland, CA, to Dorothy Jane Blackmer (Elderkin) and Beverly Adams Blackmer in 1949. She spent her early years being moved to various places in Northern California, and enthusiastically participated in the Civil Rights and antiwar movements of the 1960s as a young adult in the Bay Area. She held the lifelong beliefs that "love thy neighbor" had no exceptions, peace and justice should prevail, and–much to the occasional chagrin of her friends and family–clothing should be optional.

When she was 22 and pregnant, Gail moved to rural Washington state to be close to friends and live simply and in harmony with nature. She had her daughter at home in the woods in a house with no running water and a wood stove for heat and cooking. She married and had a son. After separating from her husband and a single mother of 2 young children, Gail joined an evangelical Christian commune for 5 years before leaving to settle in the Skykomish valley in the Pacific Northwest, where she lived the rest of her life surrounded by her beloved mountain ranges and flowing creeks and rivers. As her children grew up Gail supported her family the best she could with limited resources–taking various jobs and earning an associate's degree in graphic design at her local community college. Her life was not one lived without regrets: she lamented the ways that her parenting was influenced by poverty, her 15-year foray into Christian fundamentalism, and the mental health injuries that stemmed from her traumatic childhood.

Gail's commitment to healing and the work she did in therapy were not only a source of pride but brought her comfort and peace. Although she acknowledged her regrets, she was always striving to grow into the version of herself that she wanted to be. She celebrated her adult children's successes and worried about their challenges. She adored spending time– whether on the phone or in-person– with her grandson and was his most enthusiastic supporter, proudly sharing how wonderful he was with anyone who was willing to listen. She was always generous with whatever she had, and always willing to share with anyone whom she thought had a more urgent need.

She loved to cook tasty food and create beautiful things with her hands across many mediums- whether through photography, weaving, pottery, sewing, gardening or wood and stone carving. She became an accomplished knitter later in life: the hats and scarves she knit for loved ones over the last 20 years continue to warm them today. Fiercely independent, Gail also deeply valued community–from her neighbors, friends, and family to her stellar care team at the Virginia Mason oncology department in Seattle. She was extremely grateful for the support of her community in the ways she needed while living with cancer.

She eschewed the formality of organized religion but believed that we are spiritual beings who live surrounded by earth magic (an answer that flummoxed any form wielding health care workers). Because she held that the best spiritual practices are those we develop ourselves and are meaningful to us, it comes as no surprise that she explicitly did not want a formal funeral service.

Gail would be happiest if you celebrated her life by enjoying a beautiful spot in nature, cooking a delicious meal, going for a walk with your dog or another family member or creating something beautiful with your hands in her memory. She was preceded in death by her brother Bruce and is survived by her children Trillium (Quentin) and Jonah (Tracie), sisters Penelope and Melissa, grandson Felix, niece Claire and nephew Toby. While her physical presence will be greatly missed, she lives on in the hearts and minds of those who loved her, and in the beauty of the natural world that surrounds us–earth magic indeed.

If you feel compelled to donate somewhere in her name, please support Cancer Lifeline, an organization that helped Gail in meaningful ways.

We leave you with the poem that Gail read to her palliative care doctor to illustrate her desire to welcome death fearlessly, with open arms.

Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond by Mary Oliver

As for life,
I'm humbled,
I'm without words
sufficient to say
how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,
and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched
though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen–
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.
Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort–
along with human love,
dog love, water love, little serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for the smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about
stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,
and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,

can you?