After out son Doron’s tragic death, my late husband and I found a well-worn, notebook on his bedside table. It was filled with poems that he’d scribbled at odd times; thoughts he’d put down on paper. Painstakingly we deciphered them but were unable to read the contents immediately. It was far too upsetting. We put it in our study for perusal later; much, much later. One evening, we sat together on the same couch where Doron had spent so many hours, doing little but stare out of the large window at our garden and started reading. Our hearts broke once again. How many times can one’s heart break?
NO ONE TO HELP ME – ‘I’LL DANCE ON YOUR GRAVES.’
I never thought
I’d be as dependent as
an innocent lamb is
on its mother’s milk.
I am dependent on the charity of
good people and bad people
but to date, I haven’t met
anyone who can help me.
Certainly not my parents.
I’ll dance on their graves.
AUTUMN
Summer has gone
There’s no sun, no sea
No tanning on white sand.
I’m waiting for the leaves to fall.
Winter, I await you.
I wait to hail the start of the cold.
I close my windows and
won’t let THEM in.
LIFE IS DIFFICULT
Life is difficult sometimes
but we have to find small flashes of light
to lessen the depth of the gloomy darkness
that gets more profound
with the ticking of my clock.
It gives me a dimension of time.
Those points of light are vague during the day,
barely visible,
so I ask; ‘Is it worth living for two or three minutes a day?’
FRIENDS
My friends are having fun;
one abroad, one recently returned
all living full lives.
Only I am incarcerated in a crazy cage
without a past, without a future.
MY DOCTORS
‘We’ve tried to help you
my doctors claim.’
But, they set a trap for me.
I fell into a bottomless pit
that they dug for me.
THEM
THEY enter stealhily 
in the dead of night.
The storm inside of me
turns to fear.
What do THEY want from a pauper?
Peace, peace, peace.
I pray for peace of mind.
Jill's Experiences with Mental Health , Stigma, Alzheimer's Disease, Grief & Grieving & serenade2seniors 
Jill, as always, I want to say thank you for your tireless work in shining the light on a very dark place. Your on going tribute to your son allows those who are in the struggle to open there eyes and look for a way out. Wishing you lots of strength.
Dear Sara,
Thank you for taking the trouble to reply. I only hope that what you say is true and that others will
feel that they are not alone, and that they have a place where they can turn. I received a call on my
mobile from Iraq the other night. Someone wanted help with his ill son and because I have experienced
something similar, I was able to tell him what I did. He said it helped.
Sheri,
Coming from both you and your husband, that is overpowering praise. Thank you both so much. There are
times when I wonder whether the right people are reading my blog and absorbing the content.
Jill
I am sure you did help him, as with so many others, near and far. All the best.
Granny,
I can’t bring myself to click like on this one… I don’t know how many times one’s heart can be broken… To whom, what or why do we turn to?
loads of love, Marie
Thanks for your sensitivity, Marie. Do you know that someone actually wrote; Terriffic!
Jill
Gran, simply put, I think that person is the one your neighbour should have told has an ID TEN T! Hope you remember this and know that it isn’t only those diagnosed with a mental illness who are actually ill!!!
Hi Marie,
How very sensitive of you. I thank you.
Jill
this is how I began my journey of Grief after I lost my son now I am a writer and have completed three poetry books one audio and one full novel all from inspiration from my son who gave me this gift to help others.