A Turn No Family Should Ever Face
In June 2024, just a few months after her fifth birthday, Aëla was diagnosed with Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma (DIPG)—an extremely rare and aggressive brain tumor that primarily affects children. The diagnosis shook her family’s world. There is no known cure. The survival rate is heartbreakingly low. It’s the kind of diagnosis that leaves parents breathless, doctors solemn, and families scrambling to hold onto hope with both hands.
Throughout 11 months of treatments, tests, hospital visits, and pain, she remained herself—fully and remarkably. Though the tumor slowly took from her the ability to move freely, to walk, to eat comfortably, even to speak without effort—it never touched her spirit.
She sang through pain.
She smiled through fatigue.
She gave hugs that felt like sunlight.
She danced with her eyes when her body could no longer keep up.
In a world where children are supposed to be carefree, Aëla faced suffering—and met it with grace. Her courage wasn’t loud or defiant. It was quiet, soft, and profound. She didn’t need to be brave for the world to notice. Just being herself was an act of heroism.
The Day She Flew
On the morning of May 16, 2025, after nearly a year of fighting, Aëla’s earthly journey came to an end. She was only six years old.
In the tender words of her mother, Meg Rolland:
“It is with a very heavy heart and great sorrow that Aëla flew into the sky with Peter Pan this morning near Paulin and I.”
It was a moment of unspeakable loss. A moment no parent should ever have to face. And yet, there is a quiet beauty in the image: a little girl, no longer in pain, soaring freely—leaving behind a broken body but taking with her an unbreakable spirit.
She didn’t just pass away.
She flew.
