Freya Everly

When Freya was battling B-cell acute lymphoblastic leukemia, we were carried by organizations that stepped in when our world felt like it was falling apart. One of the most extraordinary among them was Christmas Without Cancer (CWC).

Founded in 2003 by Gerri Neylon, Christmas Without Cancer supports Chicagoland families affected by cancer by quietly “adopting” them during treatment. They provide gifts, necessities, and year-round encouragement — meeting both practical needs and emotional ones during an unimaginably heavy season.

They magically entered our lives in late fall of 2024 and by Christmas, they arrived at our door with what felt like an army of volunteers. They brought thoughtfully chosen gifts for our family, gift cards for groceries and gas — things that may seem simple but had begun slipping through the cracks under the weight of caregiving and hospital life. Their generosity lifted burdens we didn’t even realize we were still carrying.

And then there was Santa Adam. 🙂 A few weeks after the initial delivery, he appeared on Christmas morning with a few gifts that had “fallen off the sleigh.” I stood quietly in the corner of the room, silently weeping, watching our children experience pure joy in a season that had held so much fear and uncertainty. CWC didn’t just give us presents. They gave our family a moment of magic when we desperately needed it.

But their support didn’t end with the holidays.

Last April, CWC hosted a Mother’s Day Brunch for women whose families have been affected by cancer. It was one of the first truly celebratory moments we had experienced since Freya’s diagnosis. I was able to bring my mom — who carried so much of the weight alongside us during treatment — and got to sit in a room full of strong, compassionate women who understood this journey in ways few others can. I was gifted a beautiful birthstone necklace representing my three children — a piece I treasure deeply. But more than that, I was given something we hadn’t had much of: lightness. Community. A moment to breathe.

And then came the season no parent is prepared for.

One of the hardest realities after losing a child is the quiet. So many organizations that once surrounded us with support were suddenly silent. So many people are stunned and paralyzed by loss—they opt to do nothing, instead of risking doing the “wrong thing”. Not Christmas Without Cancer.

Almost immediately, I heard from CWC’s President, Renee. Her words were gentle and steady, assuring us that they weren’t going anywhere. She coordinated a DoorDash campaign to help us through the weeks when even meeting our most basic needs felt impossible. They gifted us a memorial garden stone and a gift card so we can plant something this spring in Freya’s honor — a living reminder of our beautiful girl.

They showed up in the quiet. That is who they are.

Christmas Without Cancer is doing extraordinary work with an extraordinary heart. They have built a community rooted in empathy — one that provides practical help while also pushing back against the isolation that so often follows cancer and loss. We love our CWC adopted family and hope to support their efforts for years to come. You can donate to this amazing organization here.

-Melissa