Another Life Being Well Lived

Have you met Wendy Mitchell? Wendy says “On the 31st July 2014 I was diagnosed with Young onset dementia. I may not have much of a short-term memory anymore but that date is one I’ll never forget.” Wendy was only 62 with a busy full life ahead of her. Please go over to her site to read more about this fantastic woman.

On reading the Guest Post on the 28th I was immediately transported back to a few days early in 2016 when I didn’t know who or where I was. You may remember that post – A Few Days or the Rest of My Life. Fortunately, I have recovered completely; Wendy is still living that life.



This amazing woman has written a book. “Somebody I used to know” I’ve just received my copy and am looking forward to reading it.

Thank you, BethAnn Chiles, at Its Just Life for introducing Wendy to me.



And now, because it fits in so well with this subject (and if we are allowed to be proud of something we have written) may I once again post “My Name Is Jane, I Think”?

They’re calling me Jane
Is that who I am
I am perfectly sane
but I don’t know their plan.

I look in the mirror and what do I see
Someone who vaguely resembles me
But why am I here and why all the tears
They are beginning to scare me, what is there to fear?

 It seems like only yesterday I knew who I was and
Proud, strong and upright my life in my hands.
But now you tell me that isn’t so
Well if I am not me then where did I go?

 I remember a time when my children were small
But yesterday and last week I know not at all
Where did those days go and why am I here
I wish you could tell me why did they disappear?

This young woman calls me Mother but I don’t know her at all
She looks kind of familiar, lovely smile, soft hands and all
And the young boys with her they are calling me Gran
But again I don’t know them why are they taking my hand?

Perhaps I knew her when I too was young
When life was before me and everything was fun
And losing one’s self wasn’t even thought of then
So how could I have landed here – is this the end?

 I think I know you – are you a nurse
And where are you taking me, I know the way
Well I did before this curse
Came upon me and befuddled my mind
And now I feel that I have left me behind.

But I am still me though I can’t make you hear
I’m still your mother and hold you all dear
What’s that you say my name is Jane
And I really feel that I’m perfectly sane.

But they’re calling me Jane
Are they talking to me
Is that my name and
Who I used to be?


That’s all for today. Thank you all for reading and following me. and please check out Wendy Mitchell. A woman to be followed.


11 responses to “Another Life Being Well Lived

  1. Wendy is amazing. Your poem is very moving. Thanks.


  2. The poem reminds me of my sister that I lost last fall. We take so much for granted.


  3. Great poem, Judith. Thank you for once again posting. I checked out Wendy Mitchell and am following her now.


  4. Hi, Judith! I think the following is a comment to one of my memory posts:

    “October 28, 2011 at 3:40 pm
    How often people come into our lives and make a mark, then leave sometimes as abruptly as they came in. I too wonder what happened to that woman. I hope she survived and lived in peace and comfort. 🙂”

    If you want to have a look at this post, I just copied it here:


    • Thanks. I did remember the post once I started to read it again. I have to say that I really didn’t think of children living in Germany during and after the war until a met Hans a Lutheran priest, many years ago. As most, if not all children, I was taken up with how I was living and how war affected us. By the way, in 1946 I was 8, now I’m rapidly approaching 81! Hi


  5. I was born in 1934, Judith, and so I am approaching 85!
    I copied this comment from your previous post:
    “What misery to be afraid of death.
    What wretchedness, to believe only in what can be proven.”
    I very muych aim not to be afraid of death. But of course one does not know how one is going to react when it comes to actually facing death?!

    Liked by 1 person

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