Hollee’s Story

THE last time I saw my sister Hollee was at the Fremantle train station. Alannis Morrisette was playing on the radio as I dropped her at the station to catch a train to go home after spending time with us during the April school holidays, 1996.

Ten days later I got a phone call which changed my life – my beautiful younger sister was on life support at Sir Charles Gairdener Hospital and wasn’t expected to live.

The reason – deadly meningococcal meningitis.

They say that as time passes, tragic losses like that of Hollee from our tightly knit family will heal. I guess, and a lot of other people who have suffered similar losses – whether through meningitis, car accident or any form of sudden death, will agree it does get easier to live with – but it never ever goes away. Not a day goes by when I don’t catch a glimpse of Hollee, whether it be in any one of the photos we have of her in my home, or in my mind. Her long, golden shining hair, her infectious laugh, her way of ringing me and saying “Hi Jack”, her bubbly personality – they will all remain in my memory forever.

I saw her grow from a tiny baby, 14 years younger than me, to a beautiful young woman with endless possibilities in life – all cruelly snatched a

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