No parent ever wants to hear the words “your son has terminal cancer “, but that is exactly what my sister and brother-in-law heard on September 24, 2018. My sister announced her son, Noah Christopher Reeves, was diagnosed with Grade IV Glioblastoma multiforme at just seventeen years old. After our family breakdown, I got to work.
Noah’s treatments took place at St. Jude Hospital in Memphis, TN., about an hour away. Even with the wonderful help of St. Jude, there was never enough for all that was needed. I immediately started a GoFundMe, and a Facebook Fundraiser. The generosity of everyone overwhelmed us. However, that is not the story I want to tell.
When you are facing a terminal illness in a child, people tend to show their true selves. Lifelong friends disappeared. What is amazing is that people we did not even know started to do little things. Small gifts of support that made the ordeal easier to bear came from complete strangers. One lady started a meal train, where people could pick a date and restaurant and have a hot meal delivered to the family. Gas cards appeared from anonymous donors in the mail. Dozens of cards showing care and support came from around the world.
Noah chose to participate in a clinical trial at the hospital in hopes that the doctors would learn something from him that would maybe mean no other child would go through this. Noah received a Make A Wish, and his choice was a hot tub because he was always cold after treatments. A local lumber company donated wood to build a deck for it. Noah’s uncle Taylor arranged for a contractor to put a ramp up to the door at no charge. After Noah became paralyzed on his dominant right side, friends, family, and neighbors started gifting him with products designed for left hand use.
Even all of these acts were not enough to cover expenses. I started three different T-shirt campaigns, which were pretty successful. We were still having trouble with funds, so I started thinking outside the box. Our community is large, but still tight knit. I approached several locally owned restaurants, and the owners were more than happy to sponsor a “Noah Night” in which a percentage of all sales would go to Noah. The local bowling alley made a Noah Day. A business called Hello Cupcake invented a special cupcake with Noah’s favorite candy bar, Three Musketeers. $5 of every dozen of The Noah is donated to St Jude in his name every three months.
Not all of the small kindnesses our family received were monetary. A group of house cleaners would come and clean and sanitize the house when the family was in Memphis. A local yard crew took care of mowing and lawn maintenance. I took care of their two dogs myself, but a wonderful woman with her own poop scooping company cleaned up after them.
Noah lost his battle January 7, 2020. Our teenage karate black belt fought his best, but in the end our world has been shattered. However, the kindnesses of strangers still has not really stopped. Old family friends send cards and checks. Gift cards for my sister and brother-in-law come to our parents’ house for food, coffee, massages, and stores. Nothing can ever replace our sweet pea. Noah was a very gentle soul who wanted to make the world a better place. Even though he is gone from us, I think he is still making the world a better place. The kindness of strangers has amazed us all. Everyone that reads his story is affected. Noah’s fight is documented on Facebook on a page called Noahstrong. If any of my readers want to follow the journey of ups and downs, and read in his own words how he felt learning that he had a brain tumor, please go have a look.
Noah Reeves only lived eighteen years, but he touched so many lives. After his death, his college, Arkansas State University - Newport, established a Noah Reeves Scholarship that is awarded to a student who has overcome adversity. Writing his obituary is the worst thing I have ever had to do. The kindness of friends and strangers is what is helping our family get through the toughest times. To quote The Beatles, “I get by with a little help from my friends”.
Aunt Nannon Reeves
About the Creator
Rhiannon Brown Reeves
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“He Kept Going When No One Was Watching — And That Changed Everything”
No one ever noticed the days he almost gave up. There were no messages asking if he was okay. No one wondered why he became quieter. No one asked how much effort it took just to keep going. To the world, he was just another ordinary man. His name was Ayaan. Ayaan’s life didn’t collapse in one dramatic moment. It slowly faded. Missed opportunities. Rejected ideas. Silent disappointments. Every failure was small, but together they became heavy. He had dreams once. Big ones. Dreams that kept him awake at night, imagining a future where his hard work would finally matter. But over time, those dreams began to feel unrealistic—almost embarrassing. People around him seemed to move forward effortlessly. They celebrated promotions, achievements, and milestones. Ayaan watched from the side, smiling politely while feeling invisible. At work, his efforts were ignored. Among friends, his voice faded. At home, expectations weighed heavily on him. Slowly, a dangerous thought settled into his mind: “Maybe I’m not good enough.” That thought followed him everywhere. It followed him on crowded buses. It followed him into sleepless nights. It followed him every time he tried again and failed. One night, after scrolling through endless success stories online, Ayaan closed his phone and stared at the dark ceiling. His chest felt tight, not because of pain—but because of exhaustion. He whispered quietly, “How long do I keep trying?” There was no answer. But that night, Ayaan made a decision—not a loud one, not a confident one. A tired decision. He decided to keep going, even if nothing changed. The next morning felt the same. The same routine. The same doubts. The same fear of wasting his life. But Ayaan showed up anyway. He worked when no one praised him. He studied when no one guided him. He practiced when no one believed in him. Some days, motivation disappeared completely. On those days, discipline took over. He reminded himself: “I don’t need applause. I need progress.” Weeks passed. Nothing dramatic happened. No sudden success. No recognition. No miracle. But something subtle began to shift. Ayaan became calmer under pressure. He learned to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. He stopped comparing his journey to others. The silence that once scared him now became his training ground. Months later, a serious problem appeared at his workplace. It was complicated, risky, and easy to blame on someone else. Most people avoided it. Some pretended it wasn’t their responsibility. Ayaan didn’t announce himself. He didn’t seek attention. He simply started working. Late nights. Mistakes. Corrections. Learning. There were moments he wanted to quit. Moments when fear whispered, “You’re not ready.” But he answered back, “I’ll learn.” Slowly, the problem began to disappear. Not perfectly—but steadily. People noticed, quietly. One afternoon, his manager called him into the office. Ayaan expected criticism. Instead, he heard a question that stunned him: “Where did you learn all this?” Ayaan paused. How could he explain years of silent effort? How could he explain working when no one cared? He simply replied, “I kept going.” That moment didn’t change his life overnight. He didn’t become famous. He didn’t suddenly become successful. But it changed something far more important. His belief in himself. For the first time, Ayaan understood that life doesn’t always reward effort immediately. Sometimes, it watches. It watches who continues without praise. Who improves without recognition. Who grows in silence. Years later, Ayaan looked back at the version of himself who almost quit. The man who felt invisible. The man who thought no one was watching. And he smiled. Because he finally understood the truth: Life was always watching. Not to judge. Not to rush. But to see if he would keep going when it was hardest. The world doesn’t reward those who only work when they’re seen. It rewards those who build strength in silence. And sometimes, the moment that changes everything doesn’t come with applause. It comes quietly. After patience. After effort. After consistency. That is when everything finally begins to change. Final Message Keep going—even when no one is watching. Especially then.
By Inayat khanabout 6 hours ago in Motivation
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