She never stopped fighting. Not once.
California beauty queen Andrea Andrade has died, nine years after she was first diagnosed with colon cancer. Her husband announced her passing with a simple, devastating message that captured the depth of their bond: “My eternal love. I know this isn’t goodbye.”
Andrea passed away on January 16 after a long, grueling battle with a disease that has been quietly taking more young lives than many people realize. While overall cancer death rates among Americans under 50 are declining, colorectal cancer continues to rise in that same age group—a statistic that feels abstract until it has a face, a name, a family.
Andrea was diagnosed in 2017 with stage III colon cancer. Doctors told her she might have six months to two years to live. She gave them nine.
Those nine years were not defined by retreat or resignation. They were filled with love, purpose, ambition, and service—proof that even under the shadow of a terminal illness, life can still be expansive.
She and her husband, Chris Wilson, were together for eight years, two of them as a married couple. In interviews, Wilson often spoke less about Andrea’s beauty—though she was crowned multiple times—and more about her spirit.
“I was punching above my weight class for sure,” he once said, laughing. But what stayed with him was her authenticity. “I fell in love with her soul. She was positive, encouraging. She believed in me. And that gave me confidence.”
Andrea held five beauty titles over the years, including Miss West Coast, Miss Nuestra Belleza USA, Miss Fresno County, Miss Regional West, and Miss California Congeniality. Yet those closest to her say the crowns were never what mattered most.
What mattered was how she showed up for others.
During treatment, Andrea met a young boy who wore a superhero costume to chemotherapy. That moment sparked something lasting. Together, Andrea and Chris founded “Not All Heroes Wear Capes,” a program dedicated to bringing joy to hospitalized children. They dressed as superheroes, visited pediatric wards, and showed up with mascots, characters, and gifts—small moments of magic in the middle of fear and pain.
Andrea wrote candidly about how difficult yet meaningful that work was. She admitted that she often cried, even when she promised herself she wouldn’t. Seeing the children smile made it worth it, even when it broke her heart.
Chris later said that initiative was one of the most rewarding experiences of her life. It allowed her to turn suffering into purpose, and fear into generosity.
At one point, Andrea went into remission. There was hope. But the cancer returned, spreading to her reproductive system and advancing to stage IV. In October, her health declined rapidly. She managed to spend the holidays with family before being hospitalized shortly after Christmas.
Years earlier, in a 2017 interview, Andrea had spoken openly about her fears. She worried most about her parents, about what her absence would mean to them. She was their only daughter. That love—and that awareness—never left her.
What also never left her was her resolve.
“She never, never stopped fighting,” Chris said. “She was inspirational to so many people.”
Andrea’s story is also a reminder of how quietly colon cancer can begin. Her first symptoms appeared when she was just 26. While traveling in Mexico with her grandmother, she experienced severe cramping and heavy bleeding. Because she had a history of endometriosis and irregular bleeding, the pain felt familiar, even manageable—until it wasn’t.
The pain became unbearable. She was rushed to the hospital, where doctors revealed she had lost three pints of blood. There wasn’t enough donated blood available. She was told she likely wouldn’t survive the night.
Her grandmother called Andrea’s parents to say goodbye.
But Andrea’s father refused to accept that outcome. He rallied their small community, bringing in enough donors to save her life. Only after transfusions and extensive testing did doctors uncover the truth: stage III colon cancer.
Andrea later reflected that, given her age, she understood why cancer hadn’t been suspected sooner.
During treatment, her aunt told her something that stayed with her forever: “God gives his toughest battles to his strongest warriors.” Those words were eventually engraved on a chemotherapy bell Andrea donated to a new cancer center in Fresno—a bell patients ring when they finish treatment.
Andrea would never get to ring it herself.
She is survived by her husband, her parents, her older brother Junior, and her two younger brothers, Eric and Jose.
Her fight has ended, but her influence hasn’t. It lives on in the children she comforted, the families she uplifted, the policies she inspired, and the people who saw in her not just resilience, but grace.
Andrea Andrade didn’t let cancer define her life.
