The Loving Lyas Family

This page and the funds raised are in dedication to the Lyas Family. To know this family and what they’ve had to endure over the last 3 years is unimaginable.

As part of their extended family, knowing them for the past 5 years and caring for their little girls, this is their story. From the outside, when we see them, speak to them, or just in their presence, you would never know that their world has been slowly falling apart behind closed doors.

Ben and Rebekah Lyas are the definition of strength, resilience, hope, and love.

Their strength pushed them day in and day out. Their resilience set by this family and the power to persevere against the odds that Rebekah is facing never diminished their hope in finding relief or a cure. Their love for each other and for their children shows day in and day out on their beautiful girls' faces.

This family's unimaginable story began two weeks before their oldest child’s preschool graduation, June 2022. Rebekah, 39 weeks pregnant at the time with their 3rd child, a little boy, was due any day. She had dropped the girls off at school, kissed and hugged both girls, and said her goodbyes as she would any other day. She went to the car and didn’t feel well. She knew something was wrong and drove herself to the local hospital, calling her husband Ben to let him know.

After many hours, countless tests, and medical efforts, Rebekah and Ben had lost their baby boy, and the word cancer had come into play. Stomach cancer, to be exact.

Ben, who normally stands so tall (over 6ft), showed up later that same day to pick up his girls at what seemed to be half his height. Slumped over with exhaustion, grief, anger, and the unknown, that man crumbled into the arms of one of the admins and just stayed in silence, never breaking. He gathered himself after some time, stood back to his original posture, and painted a smile upon his face. He walked into a toddler classroom and was greeted by 8 two-year-olds and his sweet little Emmie. Ben picked her up, said hello in his sweet, goofy voice he always greeted her with, and walked out.

Flash forward to the days and weeks after. After the burial of their son, after the initial shock of the cancer diagnosis and the treatment plans with countless medical professionals, was our Ellie girl's graduation day. Both Ben and Rebekah were there, smiling, capturing, savoring, and embracing every moment as their oldest daughter sang songs, played with her peers, and had a wonderful night not thinking about the horrific days and nights prior.

When all you want to do is hold these children and their parents so tightly and let them know it will be ok! We are here for you and whatever you need. We had to take that step back and let them enjoy these moments together, not bringing up sadder times in such a happy moment.

Rebekah went on for the days, weeks, and months seeking treatment for the cancer. Pills, ports, hair loss, constant pain, and sickness were all part of her day-to-day while still working full-time and taking care of her children. Treatment seemed to be working, and tumors and cells were shrinking. Remission was even mentioned in conversations. Then one day, about a year and a half into treatments, we were greeted with Ben at pick-up as we have almost every day since the girls had started with us. Except he stayed in the office, slumped over again. “Ben, are you ok?” He replied, “Yeah, I’m ok. But Rebekah isn’t.” It was in that moment, that everything came rushing back from a year and a half prior. The cancer has grown, it’s spreading, and Rebekah isn’t responding to treatment. They are giving her 3-5 years. It was like a brake check to your world. Your head and body snap with the jolt, and you brace for impact, knowing no one is around you.

Emmie was now three and an half, and Ellie was wrapping up her year in first grade. At this point, the pain became so severe Rebekah couldn’t work, leaving the family to a one-income household without much help from other resources. Work and finances were minor compared to the pain she felt when her daughters just wanted to be held by their mother, and the pain was so unbearable she would cry in silence but would lay in pain just so her children knew their mother loved them and they could feel their mother’s arms around them.

Summer of 2024 came quick, and so was the life expectancy given at that point. 3-5 years was now, maybe a year. Treatment was still not working despite changes, waiting on trials, insurance, and possible second opinions. Summer of 2024 was also spent making memories at the beach and day trips with the girls. Through all of this, the girls are very much aware mommy is sick, but they don’t know to what extent. Nor, in a way, did they need to know. They’re young, innocent, and pure.

September 2024, school began for Ellie, and Emmie has entered Pre-K 4. Life has gone back to structure and semi-normalcy for all families, and we see Rebekah from time to time, but mostly Ben for drop-off and pick-ups. Emmie’s birthday comes and goes, Halloween, Autumn fun, Thanksgiving, and then boom! Ben comes back in the office slumped over. All he said was, “She has 6 months.” Tapped his fingers on the steel-framed door, and you can see the fear and hear the breaking of his heart through the sounds that completely surrounded him. That brake check feeling came back, except we had hit something at that point. He stood tall yet again, put a smile on his face, and went to grab Emmie from class, and they held hands, exiting the building.

At this point, we are in December. Filled with holiday happiness and a joyous time to be a kid. Emmie and her friends were putting on a winter play, Santa is coming, and we are doing all the magical things. But, we also know this little girl’s life is about to crumble. We knew after the holidays both Ben and Rebekah were going to sit the girls down and talk to them about what was to come for their family, but unbeknownst to anyone, we didn’t know how little time we actually had.

It wasn’t long after the holidays Rebekah had begun to decline rapidly. Medications had stopped working, she was in excruciating pain, and all that there was to do was to keep her comfortable.

On January 5th, after speaking with Rebekah, who was just very matter of fact, she said, “It’s the beginning of the end.” Rebekah was in the hospital and waiting to be transferred to Hospice for comfort care. We knew we didn’t have much time left with her, but also to look at her girls is to look at her. Happy, full of light, and absolutely beautiful.

Your heart breaks for this family, and through all of this and these years, they never once asked for anything. They just made do and figured it out along the way.

Well, we don’t know exactly how much time we do have with Rebekah and what will be with Ben, Ellie, or Emmie and how the days, weeks, months, and years to come will go with the loss of their wife and mother being inevitable. But, we want to do something, anything to help in any way we can.

Let’s help this beautiful family stay strong during an unimaginably hard time. Every donation, share, and prayer makes a difference. Every donation will go directly to the family. Anything given is so much appreciated not only by us but by Ben. The man who stood tall when life’s ups and downs would’ve shrunk most.

Your support, whether through a donation or by sharing this campaign, is deeply appreciated during this difficult time