Cheryl Strayed Husband Illness: “Wild” Author Steps Away as Brian Lindstrom Faces Fatal Diagnosis

When a writer who has spent her career discussing grief suddenly claims she is unable to speak, a certain kind of silence descends. At the end of April, Cheryl Strayed found herself in that situation, announcing on Instagram that her husband, Portland filmmaker Brian Lindstrom, had been diagnosed with a “serious, fatal illness.” She didn’t say what it was. She didn’t have to. She obviously meant for the words to have the weight they did.

The foundation of Strayed’s 57-year-old literary career has been personal loss. The 2012 memoir Wild, later adapted into a movie starring Reese Witherspoon, was about her mother’s passing and the ensuing chaos. This announcement went viral in part because readers often feel like they know her. Even when it cost her something, her writing has always encouraged that level of closeness.

The cancellations started almost right away. A workshop in the Berkshires at Kripalu. a visit to Hunter College. She silently removed other obligations from her schedule. She wrote, “I simply cannot do anything but be with my family right now and see to our broken hearts,” and asked for love, light, prayers, and thoughts. From someone like her, it can sound devastatingly honest, but from a stranger, it can sound performative.

Although Lindstrom, 65, is not as well-known as his wife, anyone who follows independent documentaries in the Pacific Northwest knows his name. He attended Lewis & Clark, grew up in Portland’s Parkrose neighborhood, and has spent decades focusing his camera on individuals that most filmmakers ignore, such as those ensnared in poverty, addiction, or the criminal justice system. His 2013 documentary about James Chasse’s passing, Alien Boy, is still regarded as a seminal work in that city. A recurring theme in his films is the belief that common tragedies should be closely observed.

Shortly after Strayed finished the hike that would eventually become Wild, the couple got together in 1995. The journal entry, “I met a man named Brian Lindstrom last night,” is one of the stories she has previously shared. I believe he will be someone to me even though I have no idea who he is.” It’s the type of sentence that seems made up in hindsight. In 1999, they tied the knot. They took a U-Haul to Syracuse for their honeymoon. Bobbi and Carver, their children, are now adults.

It’s difficult to ignore the dissonance that Strayed herself pointed out, almost apologetically: listeners of her podcast, Mind Over Mountain, will continue to hear upbeat clips that were recorded, in her words, “in easier, happier times.” That footnote has a profoundly human quality. The recordings are authentic. The sorrow is genuine. Both are now present, but they won’t line up.

It’s unclear what will happen next. The family has essentially requested to be left alone while still being detained, and Strayed has not provided a timeline. Her readers, many of whom discovered her through their own losses, seem to be doing just that as they watch this play out. Mostly in silence. If it were ever your turn, how would you like to be held yourself?