St. Jude patient Emily says ‘yes’ — to every moment in life

Engagement photos courtesy of Lauren Hawkins Photography

For their first date, Griffin asked Emily to brunch at a ‘50s-style beauty shop turned hip restaurant in midtown Memphis. Brunch was a new move for Griffin. “More serious than coffee but not as serious as dinner and drinks,” he said, grinning.

Sitting next to Griffin now as they tell the story of how they met, Emily rolled her eyes and laughed. Griffin makes her laugh — a lot. It’s what she first liked about him. “Humor is like my medicine,” she said.

Griffin had just arrived in Memphis in December 2022, a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy newly stationed at the base in nearby Millington. He’d connected with Emily on a dating app.

At brunch, Griffin and Emily clicked. They talked for hours and not just about first-date topics but even war, climate change and politics. Best to know up front, Emily said. 

She told Griffin about her job at the time, working at ALSAC, the fundraising and awareness organization for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital®, and how she’d run a 5k the day before to benefit St. Jude.

Griffin could tell Emily loved her job and asked why. Emily hesitated. What she was about to tell him could scare him off. 

Emily took a deep breath. Better to know up front. She told Griffin she had been a patient at St. Jude. 

Emily was 16 in 2016 when she was diagnosed with acute promyelocytic leukemia (APL), a rare subtype of leukemia. She was treated at St. Jude with a new protocol as part of a clinical trial that was testing a different combination of medicines and fewer rounds of chemotherapy.  

At the time, the drugs in the new combination had been highly effective in a clinical trial of adults with APL but hadn’t been widely used to treat children. As part of the clinical trial, Emily would be one of the first pediatric patients at St. Jude to be treated on the protocol.

Emily told her doctor it was all right if it didn’t work for her. Whatever they learned from her could help someone else someday.

It did work. That day at brunch, Griffin wouldn’t have known by looking at Emily, so full of life six years after finishing treatment, just how close she came to not having a life at all. The treatment Emily received now is the standard treatment for APL at St. Jude with a survival rate of more than 90 percent.

Instead of scaring Griffin off, he was awed by Emily’s resilience and strength. 

Neither of them wanted that first date to end. But Emily had other plans, a play date with her dog, named Dani Marie after St. Jude founder Danny Thomas and his wife, Rosemarie, to meet her new roommate’s dog for the first time. Griffin and Emily reluctantly said good-bye. 

Later that day, after the dogs had hit it off, Emily texted Griffin, “Well, I’m not the only one who had a great first date today!” Griffin texted back, “Want to have a second great date today?”

He offered to cook Emily dinner but warned that his furniture hadn’t arrived yet, so save for a footlocker, laptop computer, and some cookware, his place was sparse. Still, Emily agreed.

“She couldn’t get enough of me,” Griffin joked. 

“Oh, whatever!” Emily said.

Emily brought two lawn chairs, so they’d have somewhere to sit. Griffin made air-fried chicken and green beans. They’ve been inseparable since.

Emily’s family and friends fell in love with Griffin along with her. Same for Griffin. His former commander ordered Griffin, “Do not mess this up.”

‘Life feels easier’

They’d been dating for a year when Griffin was accepted into the master’s degree program at the U.S. Naval War College in Rhode Island. He wanted Emily to go with him but worried about moving her away from St. Jude and her support network. 

Emily assured him, “I’ve been through worse.” She found a job with another nonprofit that helps children. They signed a lease on a charming house in a picturesque neighborhood. In the military, Emily found an instant new community. 

“Life feels easier because of you,” Emily told Griffin. “I’m not scared of the hardships of life when I know that my best friend is going to be there.” For whatever happens.

Emily and Griffin are that couple, laughing extra hard at each other’s jokes, holding hands, gazing at each other with big smiles. 

“We’re gross,” Griffin quipped.  

Laughing, Emily agreed, “I hate us.”

What Griffin loves most about Emily is her zest for life. “I don’t know anyone else who loves life as much as you do,” Griffin said to Emily. She takes joy in everyday things. Afternoon walks. Playing outside with Dani Marie. Singing along to showtunes in the car. 

Emily had made friends at St. Jude who didn’t make it. “I understand how fickle life is,” she said. So Emily embraces every moment. Now Griffin does, too. 

A promised adventure

On a crisp but sunny Saturday in December, Emily and Griffin got dressed up and walked to a nearby luxury hotel, The Vanderbilt, for a fancy lunch.

Afterward, they wandered back toward their home, just a 10-minute walk. As they crossed the park across the street from their house, Emily realized Griffin had let go of her hand and fallen behind. 

She turned around to see Griffin down on one knee, holding up a small ring box. 

Emily had known the proposal was coming — he’d let it slip, and they’d spent months working with a jeweler to design their rings.

Hers were made from a ring that had belonged to her great-grandmother and given to Emily by her grandmother. The largest diamond now nestled in sapphires, replacing six smaller diamonds that they used to make three pairs of earrings, two for Emily’s two young nieces, the third for maybe their own daughter someday. 

She’d looked at pictures of wedding dresses, musing whether she should pick one with a neckline that would cover the scar on her chest from a medical port during treatment at St. Jude.

“Don’t cover it up,” Griffin said. “That’s one of the things I love most about you.” A mark of strength, not something to hide. 

But Emily hadn’t known when Griffin would ask. (He’d managed to keep that to himself.)

Down on one knee, Griffin told Emily, “I can’t promise we’re going to be super stable.” His service in the Navy will mean moving frequently, and at times, they’ll be apart.

In fall 2026, Griffin will go back to sea for three years of frequent deployments, some lasting six months or longer. “It makes it harder to have to leave someone behind,” Griffin said. 

“He’s talking about our dog,” Emily interjected, smiling. 

Emily will be his anchor, Griffin said, his reason to make it home.

He promised, “It’s going to be an adventure.” And then, “Emily Hines, will you marry me?”

They both cried, and Emily handed Griffin a handkerchief that once belonged to her great-grandfather, who served in the U.S. Navy during World War II, had always carried. She had it embroidered in one corner with “Love, Emily,” in her handwriting.

And then she said yes. 

They celebrated at home with a bottle of champagne and called family and friends to tell them the news. Griffin reported back to his old commander, “I did not mess it up, sir.”

That evening, they attended a military ball at a Gilded Age mansion, Griffin in his dress uniform and Emily in a long emerald gown. It was like something out of a fairytale — and another in a long list of moments Emily wasn’t sure she’d get. 

Emily and Griffin will marry in October in Memphis, where they met and where Emily got her second chance at life. “These are truly moments made possible by St. Jude,” Emily said. Moments that matter.