For anyone who may not know me, my name is Aliyah Mohler. My grandpa, Timothy R. Leek from Springfield, Missouri, is the heart of our family. Our family here includes my 7-year-old son Andre, my grandma Cindy Leek, my dad Jason Mohler and his wife Perla, my siblings Brodie, Max, Marisa - and my grandpas soon to come 2nd great grand baby, Sterling.

Anyone who knows me knows that asking for help isn’t a thing for me, let alone my family as a whole. I grew up to be very independent—knowing and being taught that I need to be able to do everything for myself, by myself. That’s just how my family is. We don’t ask for help, because we know everyone is already going through something of their own.

So this is me being vulnerable and reaching out, because I don’t know if I could live with myself not trying—and in turn, him not getting something he possibly could have if I hadn’t.

My grandparents don’t know that I’m doing this, and I truly hope it doesn’t upset them… but I also know this is something that needs to be done if we’re going to have any chance at all.

My grandpa was diagnosed with stage 4 colorectal cancer in May of 2023, and it has been such a hard and painful battle to watch. Not just for him, but for everyone who loves him.

If you know my grandpa, you know he is the most beloved man in Springfield. He could walk into a room full of strangers and walk out with 30 new friends in 30 seconds. His spirit alone makes you feel comforted just knowing he’s around..

If you know my grandpa, you also know he was never someone who could sit still. He lived to be doing something—whether that was golfing, being outside, spending time with friends, helping someone in need, putting together charity events, or running his own 100 Fold charity with his best friend. He always spent every waking moment he had thinking about other people and what he could do for them.

He used to wake up at exactly 5:55 every morning and start his day.

That’s just who he is.

And now.. it’s slowly gotten to the point where most days, it’s hard for him to even do one small thing. And if he tries, it usually ends in pain. Some days he just sleeps all day..

He used to love the simple things—playing with his great grandson, taking him for “tractor rides” around the neighborhood on his lawn mower, sitting and watching movies or shows with my grandma, or even just small light hearted conversation with those he loves (which is everyone)… and now most days he’s in too much pain to even enjoy those things.

I think the hardest part is knowing that he wants to do all of it so bad… and his body just won’t let him.

We’ve had so many scares along the way, and all we’ve been able to do is pray and take things one day at a time.

Recently, his doctor told us about one last treatment option. Something new that could potentially help—something that could give him more time or at least a better quality of life. Something that actually looks hopeful..

And right now, that means everything to us..

But it’s not covered by insurance..

The doctor says that they would need to commit to at least 8 months of treatment to really see if it works, and those 8 months alone are estimated to cost between $22,000–$25,000.

My grandparents have already gone through their savings and retirement trying to fight this.. which I know is something they would never admit to someone, let alone want me to say publicly… but this is the reality we have come to.. and it’s come to a point where I know that there is no longer any possible way that we can do this alone..

Anyone who knows my grandpa knows he has spent his entire life being one of the most selfless people you could ever meet. He’s always been the one showing up for others, helping families in need, giving when no one else could.

He’s a huge part of why I am the way I am. Every good, selfless part of me comes from him. and I truly can’t imagine what I or any of our family would do without him and I’m just not ready to lose him without trying everything we possibly can.

More than anything, I just want to see him smile again. I want him to have moments where he feels like himself, even if it’s just for a little while. I want a few more memories with him while we still have the chance.

If you’re able to donate, share, or even just say a prayer for him, it truly means more than I can explain.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and for helping us try to give him one more chance.

with love,

the Leek & Mohler family..