Beautiful Noah Kelly sadly passed away in April 2026, just after the Easter holiday long weekend.
From 16 months old, he faced it head-on: surgeries, chemo, radiation. After treatment had finished, we had a taste of the outside life again and got to enjoy some special memories on what normal people take for granted every day. Sadly, six months later Noah relapsed. I remember going into this MRI with Noah so positively. We had just come back from Thailand and I thought, there is no way this is going to be bad. There were no symptoms that gave me any indication it would be bad news. Unfortunately it was, there was new growth. This meant Noah needed more surgery, chemo and radiation. Watching him go through the horrific side effects was heartbreaking. I became a “mumologist” and expert in medical lingo overnight. Thrown in the deep end, our weeks were focused on 7-day chemo admissions, hospital bag ready and waiting at the door watching out for that temperature to break 38 degrees which would land us in emergency within an hour, vomit bag always at the ready.
Cancer turned our world upside down, and my perspective on life and what actually matters. It’s not about having a tidy house, it’s about relationships and what brings us joy.
People often describe this fight as “brave” — and while bravery is usually reserved for action movies or toddlers who lick batteries, Noah was brave. But not because he chose this. Cancer just rudely invited itself in and refused to leave.
Noah’s life may have been short, but I squeezed every bit out of it. He inspired me every day with his bravery and resilience, and I’m so incredibly proud of him enduring the beauty and the pain from these treatments. Vein blood test? Get that numbing cream on and call the blood sisters. Weekly finger prick blood test? “Bubba, we are going to see Lyn this morning.” Noah sticks out his finger for the prick. “Can we do your muscles?” Again, he sticks his arm out so the nurses can apply the blood pressure cuff.
Amongst treatment and hospital visits, together Noah and I checked off a few things on our bucket list. Travelling to Fiji, Thailand and Adelaide. Attending Bluey concerts, The Royal Easter Show, and other performances, visiting all the free museums in Sydney and numerous visits to the Zoo and Aquarium.
We met some truly beautiful souls on this journey. The kind of people you wouldn’t know existed until the worst thing happens, and then suddenly they’re dropping meals, or just showing up with chocolate.
I’ve found peace in knowing there is something more waiting for Noah on the other side. I know in Heaven, Noah will be free from the pain that has been with him for so long. I imagine him no longer needing medication just to survive the day. He will be able to run, to breath, to feel whole again. Heaven will be a place of peace, where his body is no longer broken or full of cancer.
There is so much more to be done to push the boundaries and inspire change. Hopefully in this lifetime we will find a cure for childhood cancer as every life deserves to be long, and children can’t fight cancer alone. Cancer stole my joy. And it continued to steal these little moments from me everyday when Noah was here. Sadly, time is a luxury a lot of parents don’t get in the oncology community. Brain cancer is the second most common cancer in children and kills more children than any other disease. Those who survive, are often left with serious long-term health problems. Every child should have the chance to grow up and grow old. To plan exciting futures, chase their dreams, and fulfil their potential. But cancer cuts life short for hundreds of children every year before they’ve had a chance to make their mark.
