It was on this day last year that the world of television and theater dimmed a little. Fans of NBC’s Chicago Fire and members of the Chicago theater community were shaken by the sudden, heartbreaking loss of actress Molly Glynn, who tragically died after being struck by a falling tree during a storm. She was only 46 years old, yet her impact — both onstage and off — continues to burn brightly in the hearts of those who knew her.
Molly was not just an actress. She was, as so many have said, a light — warm, gracious, and endlessly giving. Her career reflected her versatility and her devotion to her craft. On Chicago Fire, Glynn played an emergency room doctor, embodying compassion and quiet strength in a world of chaos. It was a small role in screen time, perhaps, but not in spirit. Each scene she appeared in carried her signature authenticity — the rare kind of presence that makes even fleeting moments memorable.
Before her work in television, Molly was already a beloved figure in Chicago’s vibrant theater community. She performed on some of the city’s most esteemed stages, including the Steppenwolf Theatre, Writers Theatre, and the Chicago Shakespeare Theater. Critics praised her grace and intelligence; her colleagues remembered her laughter between rehearsals, her empathy toward younger actors, and the rare combination of sophistication and playfulness that she brought to every role.
Michael Halberstam, artistic director of Writers Theatre, described her best: “Molly was a marvelous actress and a completely warm-hearted and generous human being. She had grace, sophistication and a sparkling, sexy, sassy stage presence. It is an incalculable loss to the Chicago theater community.”
That loss was felt deeply by all who knew her, but also by those who simply watched her from afar. Her performances had a way of reaching people — of reminding us that art is, at its core, a reflection of life’s fleeting beauty.
On that fateful day, Molly was riding her bike with her husband, fellow actor Joe Foust, when a sudden storm swept through the Chicago area. A powerful gust uprooted a tree, striking her. It was an accident so random, so cruelly unpredictable, that it stunned everyone who heard it. The theater lights dimmed in more ways than one that week.
Yet even as her colleagues mourned, they also celebrated her spirit. Benefit performances were held in her honor. Stories were shared — stories of her kindness backstage, her sharp wit, her ability to make even the most stressful rehearsal feel like a shared adventure. Her husband, Joe, wrote that Molly had been “the most loving partner and friend one could ever hope for.”
A year later, her absence is still felt, but so is her legacy. Every time Chicago Fire airs an episode, fans who remember her feel a pang of nostalgia and gratitude. Every time an actress steps on stage at Steppenwolf or Writers Theatre, there is a sense — quiet but real — that Molly’s energy remains, echoing through the wings.
Today, as we look back on that terrible day, let us take a moment — just one minute — to remember Molly Glynn. Remember her laughter. Remember her courage. Remember the way she made audiences believe in the truth of every line she spoke.
Because though storms may take away what we love most, the warmth of those we lose never fades. Molly Glynn’s light still flickers — on stage, on screen, and in the hearts of everyone who was lucky enough to see her shine.
