FRANCIS ROOS realised 25 December was just too far away for her daughter, DANIELLE. The rare bone cancer the 15-year-old from Springs, east of Johannesburg, was diagnosed with two years ago (YOU, 20 November 2008) had consumed her zest for life.
“We decided to have Christmas on the Friday morning, a month early. We didn’t want to celebrate without Ellatjie (her daughter’s nickname),” Francis (37) says.
While Danielle’s father, Sollie (39), and younger sister, Bianca (11), decorated the tree Francis made Danielle’s favourites: lasagne and macaroni.
Francis wipes away tears before she continues her account of the day. “After we’d eaten Danielle stared at Bianca and said, ‘Sis, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’. Then she turned to Sollie and told him, ‘Dad, I love you so much’.
“And then she put her hands around my face and said, ‘Mommy, I love you so terribly, terribly much’.”
Danielle kept saying she could hear someone at the gate. She asked her father to leave the front door open.
“There was no one there but Danielle was expecting someone. It was as though she knew someone was coming to fetch her.”
Some hours later the girl who’d been fighting desperately to live for two years took her last breath.
“A while ago Ella wrote to God asking that she not be alone when death came. She also asked for our financial struggles to end - and that no one would be angry with her after she died.”
After the family’s Christmas party Bianca went to sleep over at a friend’s house and Sollie, a machinist, reported at work for the night shift.
“Danielle told me she wanted to play outside under the stars. I explained it was impossible because she could no longer walk. Then she said she wanted to lie in my bed.”
Danielle woke up with a start at 3 am and Francis helped her into a more comfortable position. It was the last time she would see her daughter alive.
“At 5.45 am I was woken by a strange, heavy silence in the room. I was afraid to look at Danielle because I instantly knew this was it.
“I’ll always think of her dancing and singing karaoke in our lounge; she did it every night. The only thing that comforts us now is looking at her things in her room and talking about all the things she got up to.”
