Jill Annette Kirby
January 17, 1963 – December 3, 2008
The children’s fortune-telling rhyme says, “Thursday’s child has far to go.” That prediction fit Jill—her remarkable intelligence and creativity promised a lot for her future. She also had a loving spirit and a desire to please. Throughout her life, spirituality was very important to her and sustained her through difficult times.
She tried in many ways throughout her life to help other people. Her friend and neighbor, San San, recently thanked Jill for how she stood up for her against the junior high boys’ racial slurs. Jill collected stuffed animals to give to children in her poor neighborhood and shared her food with hungry neighbors. She even tried to start a charity for the benefit of children in poverty. When she could, she contributed to worthy causes, and gave generous gifts.
Jill learned easily. Compared to lists of things children should be able to do at certain ages, she was months, sometimes years, ahead. For instance, at 18 months she spoke in full sentences and had a vocabulary of several hundred words. Her pediatrician gave her informal tests, was wowed by her responses, and suggested she start attending a private school a year early. But tuition was as much Bill’s graduate school income, so that didn’t happen. She got excellent grades in school until, in senior high, she observed that many boys wouldn’t date the really smart girls, so she purposely stopped doing as well academically.
In high school, she was part of the pompon squad but quit because of feminine politics and what she considered to be rather demeaning routines. She went out for cross country until a stress fracture in her foot made her quit.
Her creativity manifested itself in many ways. When she was about three she dictated and illustrated a story that was several pages long. She and Beth made up an elaborate, ongoing story about friends, a boarding school, and a couple of families—the Honicone’s and another family whose name began with L, we think. They also put on clever but ridiculous plays for Bill and me, although we sometimes threatened to leave if they couldn’t stop giggling. The costumes Jill put together in play were hilarious—such as a nightgown stuffed with a startlingly large bosom, a wig, and a paper pipe in her mouth. Later, when I was learning how to weave baskets from veneer strips, Jill used leftover bits to make furniture for her friend’s dollhouse. She made wonderful clothes of her own design for her Barbie’s.
She tried, but lost interest in piano and violin lessons, because Beth was so much further along than Jill was, and she couldn’t catch up. She wanted to excel in her own way.
Jill turned eleven during our semester abroad in London. She didn’t much care for the comprehensive school for girls that she attended, being scorned for being an American and struggling with being a year younger than the other girls. But this trip had a strong influence on her future. Museums in London and Europe inspired her, and from then on she concentrated on art—mostly drawing and painting. In junior high she excelled in art classes, so they sent her to SPASH to take art. She won “best in show” for her entry in a regional high school exhibition at the Leigh Yawkey Woodson gallery when she was in ninth grade and similarly, honorable mention the next year. In high school she took art classes at UWSP, and she majored in art at UW-Madison, graduating with a B.A. in just three and a half years. (She got a semester’s credit for her knowledge of French.)
In addition to Jill’s admirable qualities, there was another side to her. She was accident prone. She had cuts from falls, a serious burn from cooking, and a couple of car incidents, just to mention the major things. She was also disorganized. If there was anything we couldn’t find, we’d look in Jill’s room and there it would be, even when she swore she didn’t have it, or that she had ever had it.
Jill moved away from home as soon as she graduated from high school. After college, she lived with and then married Glenn, an engineering student she met in Madison. It appeared to be a good match, but the marriage lasted only two years. Among many other problems, Jill complained that Glenn called her crazy. Shortly after the divorce, Jill did things that seemed unwise: She spent money wildly and eventually quit working, claiming she had too much talent for her job.
In October of 1988, shortly after her mother began graduate school in Madison, she called one night about 2 am. Her conversation terrified her mother, the first of many similar ones, where she complained and asked for solutions to her problems. She said the CIA planted ideas in her mind; her thoughts were broadcast over loudspeakers in stores; she was in all the ads on TV, in buses and magazines; and everyone knew and persecuted her. And she kept getting fired from jobs. Suggestions that she see a doctor outraged her, and she would hang up, until the next time. That February she moved back home, until a panic attack in May prompted her to request being taken to the hospital. A month in the psych ward and strong medications cleared her mind for a while. She had a pretty stable period before she moved to Chicago again in 1990.
Jill was hospitalized fourteen times during a twenty year period, sometimes far too briefly, because the law requires release after 72 hours if the person isn’t shown to be a danger to themselves or others. According to thousands of families who love people with mental illnesses, standard interpretation of that law is stupidly and immorally rigid—if there is no smoking gun or blood, there will be no commitment, meaning no help will be had for the person so desperately ill. Despite that, there were times when Jill was kept in the hospital long enough for treatment to work. Sometimes she stayed willingly. Sometimes she was found to be a danger. Once a compassionate judge who had seen her medicated and not medicated at different times stretched his interpretation of the law. Once we said we would not pay her rent unless…..
After periods of commitment, Jill would revel in her newfound sanity, take her meds regularly, and return to a semblance of normality. During these periods she painted, had various jobs, made friends, and exhibited work in several art shows. About 1993 she married a widower and father of two sets of twins—5 year old boys and 13 year old girls. This marriage lasted only a few months—the family was more than Jill’s fragile mental state could handle—and ended in another hospitalization and divorce.
Some time later, Don saw an exhibit of her paintings in the Portage County Public Library and made an effort to meet Jill. They lived together for over eleven years, most of that time in Milwaukee.
Each time Jill stopped taking her meds, she would become more psychotic within a few months. Each episode took her deeper into her own world, and her next round of treatment would be less effective in bringing her back to reality. Finally, Don felt unsafe with her, and they broke up. When her mother helped clear out their apartment, and especially Jill’s room, a far more deeply troubled mind than we ever imagined possible was revealed.
After her breakup with Don in November 2006, Jill was alone in Milwaukee for a few very troubled, chaotic months. After more hospitalizations, Milwaukee County put her in CSP, the highest level of care for persons with mental illness. Her case was managed by Susan, a wonderful, caring social worker to whom I will always be grateful. In about March 2007 she moved into an adult family home shared with 3 other women, staffed 24 hours a day. Monitoring Jill’s medication compliance daily kept her from further psychotic episodes, and during this time she came to appreciate, enjoy, and even miss her family more than she had been able to in years. Well, she always missed us and enjoyed seeing us, but she usually ended our visits abruptly.
Jill’s mind and life stabilized in this structured environment, and things went well enough until May, 2008, when she began falling and having slurred speech. She was diagnosed with terminal, stage 4, cancer of the brain. We asked the doctors if this tumor could have caused her schizophrenia and bipolar illnesses, but apparently there is no correlation. Surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy gave Jill a few more months, and Lynn was able to move her to a nursing home that fall and was exceedingly relieved to have her nearby to share her last days and so she could feel the family’s love and support, support she hadn’t thought existed.
For twenty years, Jill’s life was one of fear, confusion, and poverty. We worried about her, rescued her from countless crises, gave her shelter when she needed it, and grieved over the gradual loss of her sweet presence, artistic talent, and outstanding intelligence. Now she has been released from her very difficult life, with all its suffering, and for that liberation we are truly grateful. We won’t stop missing her, as the golden girl she once was and as the complex woman she became.
Her life has taught us many lessons in acceptance of what is and in dealing with things as they come, while trusting to be given wisdom to do the right thing. There are beautiful souls inside troubled minds and bodies and under personalities often found grating. We have come to see that God gives us what we need, even if it isn’t always what we want, and that we can learn from these gifts if we hold an open heart. Finally, Jill’s life has helped us know that all of us are always and completely surrounded by God’s love. We are loved, and so we can love.
Thank you, Jill.