Nicole Lorraine Hinz

The love of my life and my person, Nicole Hinz, passed away Saturday, May 30th, surrounded by the people who loved her most after a long, brutal fight with glioblastoma (GBM), an aggressive brain cancer that she faced exactly the way everyone who knew her would expect: With toughness. Stubbornness. Grit. And a healthy "f*ck you" attitude. Nicole was a wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend, and the kind of person who made life feel lighter just by being in the room. She had a gorgeous smile, a sarcastic streak, and a huge heart. And she definitely had opinions. One of those opinions was that she did not want a funeral or obituary that sounded like it had been spit out by some funeral-home template generator. No fake perfection. No weird, polished language. No pretending. That's just who she was. Nicole and I spent more than 30 years together building a life side-by-side. We grew up together. And honestly... we screwed up together too. We laughed, fought, raised kids, cats, dogs, and survived more hard seasons than I can count. Our relationship was never fake-perfect - and that's probably exactly why it worked. It was real. Loud sometimes. Stubborn often. The occasional argument, mostly because I'm an idiot. Full of sarcasm, inside jokes, loyalty, and the kind of love that gets built slowly over decades instead of all at once. More than a few people probably looked at us in the early years and thought: "There is absolutely no way those two make it." And honestly... Fair enough. But we did. F*ck the haters. After being diagnosed in May of 2024, Nicole fought unbelievably hard. Over the next two years she endured 2 brain surgeries, 2 rounds of radiation, 2 different chemotherapies, immunotherapy, seizures, endless appointments, and four trips to Germany chasing a personalized vaccine treatment that gave us hope. There were good scans. Devastating scans. Moments of hope. Moments of fear. And about a thousand impossible conversations in between. And through all of it, Nicole somehow remained unbelievably kind, soft, funny, and as always, just classy as f*ck. Even during the hardest parts, she still found joy in ordinary things. Binge-watching shows with me that we had already seen and barely remembered. Laughing at dumb jokes. Visits from family and friends. Naps with Frank and Zooey and the cats nearby. Quiet nights at home. And when things became unimaginably hard over these last months, we very rarely left each other's side. That probably annoyed her every now and then because - and this will shock nobody, I can be a lot. The amount of pride I have in how she faced both the diagnosis and the treatments will never leave me. She was my hero. And if I learned anything through all of this, it is that cancer can destroy a body without ever touching the soul of the person inside it. And if there ever was a person on this earth that had a beautiful soul, it was my Nicole. I will never forget our love or the life we built together. Our family is absolutely crushed. The kids lost their mom. I lost my person. And this house feels impossibly quiet without her in it. But in keeping with Nicole's wishes and personality, we will survive this and eventually find our footing again because that is what she would have wanted, guided by the love, humor, and strength she poured into all of us. Cancer took away a lot. But it never fully took away her. Nicole leaves behind me; our children Aliya and McCoy; our canine children Frank and Zooey and grandpup Daniel; our feline companions Olivia and Pippen; and a circle of family members and friends who loved her deeply and will miss her forever. There will be no formal funeral service or church ceremony. That just isn't us. Instead, friends and family are invited to join us for An Afternoon for Nicole - a casual gathering to spend time together, share stories, laugh, cry, hug each other, and remember somebody who meant so damn much to so many. We don't know when or where yet, but we're working through the details and will update soon. Bring stories. Bring tissues. Bring laughter. All of it belongs here. We'll have some of Nicole's favorite music playing, more pictures than she would probably approve of, and spend a couple of hours celebrating a woman who made life better for the people lucky enough to love her. Nicole would absolutely tell you not to spend a fortune on flowers. If you feel moved to do something, please consider supporting two causes we cared deeply about: • Glioblastoma research through the GBM Foundation - https://www.gbmfoundation.com/ • Or, if you love your furry companions the way we do, a donation to www.15outof10.org or www.weratedogs.com - in Nicole's name. Glioblastoma is an absolute monster. Before Nicole's diagnosis, I had barely heard of it. It affects only a tiny fraction of Americans each year, 3 out of 100,000 (.003% of the population) but for the families forced into this fight, it changes absolutely everything. Families facing GBM deserve better. And if there's one thing I would leave you with, it's this: If you are lucky enough to have your person beside you - or maybe you don't even realize yet that you've found them - please don't take a single ordinary moment for granted. Because one day you realize the ordinary moments were actually the whole damn thing. And time is an absolute thief. To Al and Max: I'm going to do my best. Mom was the leader of this family in a lot of ways - the steady one, the soft place to land, and somehow also the person who could lovingly tell all of us when we were being idiots. I'll do everything I can to protect you, guide you, and be someone you can lean on. And let's be honest... There's no chance I come close to filling her shoes. But I promise I'll try. With love, Erik P.S. In keeping with Nicole's wishes - and both of our personalities we shout from the rooftop: F*ck cancer

Nicole Lorraine Hinz

September 4, 1974 - May 30, 2026

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