Category Archives: Death

I only have a picture now …

 

 

 

DORON

 

 

D

O

R

O

N

I only.have a picture now

A frozen piece of time

To remind me how it was

When you were here and fine.

I see your smiling eyes

Each morning when I wake.

I talk to you and place a kiss

Upon your handsome face.

How much I miss your being here

I really cannot say.

The ache is deep inside my heart

And never goes away.

 

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Making Lemonade Out of This Shit ….. The Benny Fund

making-lemonade-out-of-this-shit-grandma-jill-L-HcPhUXy

MAKING LEMONADE OUT OF THIS SHIT – GRANDMA JILL

Posted in  Paperblog.

The following was written and posted on the internet by The Benny Fund and I subsequently  found it on PAPERBLOG and  decided to post this as it was heartwarming to find it on the internet. Thank you so much Benny Fund for your support as well as for the email you sent me after reading my book. Here is a part of it :-

RE: David’s Story by Jill Sadowsky.

Grandma Jill,

Thank you to my kind (virtual) friend and inspiration, Grandma Jill. I started to read Jill’s blog during the depths of depression. She blogs about mental illness, and her entries on schizophrenia started to resonate with me when I had concerns about my brother. After his suicide this last August,(2014) I reached out to Jill as a resource. She has been an endless source of inspiration and knowledge. David’s Story is a remarkable, yet heartbreaking tribute to her late son. She details her family‘s journey as well as her frustrations  with the mental health system and in this, she is not alone. She tragically lost her son to suicide as we lost my brother. I read most of her book ‘David’s Story’ within days, but I delayed reading the last few chapters for months. I could not bring myself about to deal with the reality of suicide given the rawness of my feelings so did not have the courage to finish Jill’s book. I spent the last hour sobbing uncontrollably. Her book hit at my core. Jill’s persistence was and remains enviable. Her courage is admirable. Her compassion, incomparable. If you have the chance, please read David’s Story which is on SMASHWORDS OR THE AMAZON KINDLE STORE.

‘A person diagnosed with a mental illness, as well as his/her family, is usually the very last one to speak out about it due to the stigma. Mental illness is far more common than diabetes, heart disease or cancer yet is far less spoken about.  It is NOT a character flaw. It doesn’t help to tell someone to get over it. But it helps to show compassion as they are struggling. Find ways to give support. Maybe it’s time to deal with it openly with the emphasis on kindness and acceptance.’

An excerpt from Jill Sadowsky’s book.

 

They slipped flyers of tombstones into our mailbox … ?

pile of flyers     pile of flyers    pile of flyers    pile of flyersNot long after our son died, our mailbox filled with flyers advertising tombstones. We were expected to shop around. Would you like a rough or a smooth stone? Must it be thick or thin – marble maybe? We were also bombarded with telephone calls asking how much we wanted to spend on our beloved son’s tombstone. One tombstone representative was so argumentative, that I doubt whether he would ever eat food that agreed with him. Another man asked whether we wanted space on the side of the grave for plants or for a memorial candle. Not one of them expressed any kind of empathy or understanding about what we were going through.

Much later, we chose plain, rough marble, as plain as our son’s lifestyle had been.

funeral wreath

 

He’s at rest in God’s hands, but ………………

funeral flowers While attending a dear friend’s funeral, it  triggered memories of the grief I’d felt when our son died; after he ended his life. I remembered some of the things that well-meaning friends and relatives had said to me. One stood out more than the others. It occurred when he cupped my face with both hands and said; ‘He’s at rest in God’s hands.’ My reply? ‘But, it was in God’s hands that I watched him suffer.’ I’d sought out God when in desperate need, only to find his door slammed shut in my face. I’d bargained with him, believing that if I obeyed the rules, he’d protect me, but life does not work that way.

Here are some comments and questions we heard during the days after we’d buried our son.

‘You really should have consulted with a herbalist, you know.’

‘You were supposed to watch over him 24 hours a day.’ What happened? Who was supposed to be watching over him that day?’

‘Why didn’t you change his medication?’

‘Why didn’t you make an appointment to see another psychiatrist?’

‘You could have tried something else, couldn’t  you?

‘Were you and your husband very strict when your children were young?’

What I needed most was to cry. I needed to cry until I had no more tears to shed but was unable to do so. Maybe because I had cried so much over the years. Then, a group of my son’s friends from the Mental Health Society came to visit and told us that they’d held their own private memorial service. This touched me in the deepest crevices of my soul and finally, I managed to release the well of tears I didn’t even know I had left in me to shed – tears that started and would not stop flowing.

Not long after that, a grief therapist brought by a well-meaning acquaintance rang our front door bell. According to him, I had good memories to comfort me and I could look forward to the future with hope. What I was feeling at that moment, was the raw grief of a shocking tragedy and his response sounded like psycho-babble. He insisted that we needed his help and that was when my gentle husband walked him firmly out of the front door, assuring him that we would manage without him … thank you.

 

Farewell to Doron

a willow treeFAREWELL TO DORON

A very good friend who is  no longer with us, sent this after Doron’s death.

A young, innocent child playing with his toys

Provides his parents with countless joys.

An energetic youth, full of charm,

Who ever thought he’d come to harm?

Noone knew what his future would be; nor about his tranquility.

All at once his world was shattered

He had the feeling of being battered.

Unseen demons chased him, causing strife; his life was grim.

Though it was hard to bear, this brave youth shed not a tear,

but, contemplated this world to leave,

didn’t consider his family who would truly grieve.

He’d leave to find eternal peace,

Some felt it would be a great release.

Did he need to suffer so?

The answer is no, no, no, no.

I sighed and thought of happier times

Memories plenty; friends did their best.

Thank G-d your son is now at rest.

We all loved  you, Doron.

From SANE Australia … suicide prevention

The clip below was produced by SANE, Australia, and is one of the most sensitively portrayed videos I have yet seen. It sends a message of hope to a person who is in such a deep depression that he/she is contemplating putting an end to his/her life.  Their message is:-

S T O P. There is help out there.

http://www.sane.org/projects/suicide-prevention