myjourneysinsight

MY LOVE JUST DIDN’T DIE

Posted on October 6, 2025 by Judy

A month ago, I recorded one of my favorite songs “Angel in the Sky.” My 5-year-old son, Jason, died in 1992 and today was the anniversary of his death. I decided to honor him by sharing my song on social media. It was overwhelming to receive so many caring and sympathetic comments. I appreciated the kindness and replied to every single person.

But something didn’t feel right. I hadn’t wanted to be pitied. People were genuinely sorry for my pain and wanted to console me. The problem was that I was not suffering.

The grief that burdened me for so long had lifted years ago. In fact, the message I most often want to convey is that healing from horrific grief is possible. I never believed it when I was suffering, but it happened.

When I shared my song, I was joyful at the beauty of my creation. I also wanted to express deep love for my son.

The fact that I mentioned tears while recording “Angel in the Sky,” certainly implied grief. So my audience had every reason to imagine I was still sad.

I mentioned those tears because I treasured them.

It was amazing to see this in an alleyway. Plus, it was the perfect message for me!

When I began this blog in 2010, I considered it the beginning of my healing.

I was giddy and joyful, as I opened up my heart that had been closed for decades. Initially, I did not address my grief. But six months later, I was finally able to write the hardest story, when I described how it felt to lose my 5-year-old son, Jason.

Not long after writing that story, I fully embraced playing my guitar again.

My life encompasses my passion, and I have been recording all 52 of my songs. I have done this before. I began to sing and play guitar again after a long break of 30 years. In the beginning, I hired other musicians and worked in their studios

You can hear many other versions of “Angel in the Sky” with the medley below:

Nine years ago, I began recording my songs at home. For two years, I recorded my songs freestyle with a digital recorder, and then spent two more years recording two tracks of high and low guitar to go with my vocals.

But three years ago, I started recording all my songs again in a new way. Each song took me almost a month. I had four different guitar parts now, and taught myself how to play lead melodies on my old nylon guitar. It was a fantastic process, and with each song I discovered more and more magical moments.

Once the guitar arrangement was finished, I worked remotely with a talented pianist. He would record a dozen instrument tracks for me to edit. I loved the process of creating a fuller arrangement for each song.

After hours of guitar recording, I have grooves in my fingers that almost seem permanent!

I am finally coming to the end of my long list. I’m not sure exactly what my next project will be when I am finished. I do plan to go back to some of the earlier recordings and add some new guitar elements (such as faster strumming) that worked really well on more recent songs.

Last month, it came time to record one of my favorite songs “Angel in the Sky.” I took extra special care with the guitar parts. I composed new chords for the introduction. I even recorded additional nylon guitar, because my first attempts weren’t touching enough for me. In between recording and editing guitar, I sang many vocal takes.

One afternoon, I set up my mic and began singing vocals. I concentrated on my lyrics and allowed my heart to open up.

With my eyes closed, I pictured long ago memories of Jason. Suddenly, the line I was singing completely fell apart. My voice disappeared and tears slid down my cheeks.

I stopped and allowed the emotion to settle. I continued on to finish that vocal take. And then, I began another one.

But at exactly the same spot, it happened again. My voice cracked on the word “die.” The entire line went “my love just didn’t die.”

It had been so many years since I had cried about Jason! This was so unexpected!

I still swim in the same pool where Jason once swam.

Grief had been my companion for so long and those tears were familiar. I was sad for the young woman I once was, who lost her innocence and was tormented for at least 18 years.

I realized that my tears erupted because I was speaking to Jason. It was a very emphatic line that carried indescribable feelings.

Just because he had died – my love hadn’t died!

My insight was that my tears were not about sadness – they were about love. When I finished singing my vocal, I was peaceful once again and grateful for the beautiful music I was creating.

“Gone for years and I still cry,” were such honest lyrics. There I was crying after 33 years. And as the years march on, I may still occasionally cry remembering Jason.

But every day, I am thankful I have healed from my grief.

I will continue to share my heart and my music. And Jason will always be my “lovely light, just not in sight.”

Posted in Grief Stories | Tagged acoustic guitar, angel in the sky, grief, healing music, hope, hope of healing, loss of a child, singer songwriter | 13 Comments

FRAGILE WARRIOR

Posted on October 4, 2025 by Judy

The cove where I recently went swimming.

This past year, I did not endure the health challenges I did in 2024. Unfortunately, it wasn’t smooth sailing either. In January of this year, I began using a GLP-1 weight loss medication. I had some very unpleasant side effects, which led to an ER visit. I also had struggles related to the breast cancer treatment I underwent a year ago.

I soldered on and tried not to blame myself for getting to this place. I don’t know whom to credit for the paragraph above, but it spoke to me. I was determined to heal and thrive again.

In March, I visited my daughter in Minnesota. Taking that trip alone was a big deal for me. After having torn my meniscus last year, it was especially huge. I pictured myself as a warrior – just walking through the airport.

My beautiful daughter!

Then in May, I cautiously started playing tennis again. It lasted a few months, until my knee began hurting again. It was discouraging. The orthopedic doctor told me that I had very little “tread” left on my kneecaps. When the pain became unbearable, then I could consider knee replacement. Just hearing that sent shivers up my spine. My determination to lose weight increased and I completely adjusted my eating habits. I was exhausted, but also enthused. Just finding the mindset to do this had taken me years and I embraced it fully.

Since it was sometimes painful to walk, I upped my lap swimming. Almost every day, I was in the pool and it saved me.

One day, a high school friend named Steve posted on Facebook about swimming with a group at La Jolla beach. That intrigued me. I had loved swimming in the ocean when I was young, but as I got older – the cold water discouraged me. A few times, I had gone scuba diving in warmer waters, but that was a rare occurrence.

I hadn’t seen Steve in over 45 years and commented on one of his posts. He responded by telling me to let him know anytime I was in the area – he would happily guide me on an ocean swim.

Steve would map out his swims and this one happened at midnight!

I was amazed at this post of the La Jolla swimmers on New Year’s Day. They gathered for their annual Polar Bear swim.

Over the next two years, several trips to San Diego were cancelled for different reasons. Each time I was disappointed, but I told myself I would get there. I was determined!

And so this summer, I planned a visit to see my dear friend, Tali in San Diego. We hung out together for a few days and she devoted her time to making my visit comfy and fun. Tali was encouraging and truly a wonderful cheerleader. On my second day, we went to her nearby YMCA where I was able to continue my lap swimming regimen. Instead of doing my usual 30 laps, I did 60. I was ready!

My adventurous ocean swim was scheduled for the next day. A month earlier, I had contacted Steve to discuss the plan. He told me that afterwards Tali and I could join him at his club across the street for a Jacuzzi soak. That sounded amazing.

Even though I was still limping a little with my bad knee, I was confident about my swimming ability. I could do this! I wondered how the cold water would impact me. (The ocean temperature was 69 degrees on the day I swam.)

The first sign that the stars were aligned was Tali finding us a close parking space. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to walk far and things were going great.

Tali was cute – she had me pose putting on sunscreen so I could create a future documentary. While I swam, she planned to take a nice walk and keep her eyes on me.

As I exited the car, I was assaulted by a horrible smell. This area was filled with sea lions and birds; it was literally a wildlife sanctuary. There were even baby seals splashing right next to the swimmers.

A seal playfully visiting with another swimmer.

Steve arrived a few minutes later. He looked no different than I remembered him back in the days when we attended religious school together. Tali and I were in the same class with him. Just the thought that the three of us were reuniting at this moment so many decades later was incredible!

Steve, myself, and Tali before our swim.

I was very relaxed before going in!

I was glad that I wasn’t too nervous; I only hoped I could do this without hurting myself. Steve pointed across the bay to a building in the distance. We would be swimming in that direction. He told me we might see some harmless tiger sharks, and added that on rare occasions he had even seen a sea turtle.

The steep staircase into the water.

To get into the ocean, we descended a steep cement staircase to the water below. It was high tide and the last step was a big jump for me. I couldn’t do it. I sat down and slid off the step on my tush. I was slapped by a wave when I landed and prepared myself to swim when Steve said ready. My heart was pounding.

I was in. The first thing I noticed was that the water didn’t feel cold to me. As we swam past the waves, I saw seals swimming underneath and bright orange Garibaldi fish were everywhere. It was a beautiful distraction as I focused on my strokes.

I kept swimming and swimming. Steve was nearby and I tried not to run into his feet. Every so often, I would stop, float, and chat with him.

On the above video, you can hear a sea lion barking!

There was a buoy in the distance signifying ¼ mile. I aimed in that direction with him.

As I swam, the waves kept lifting me up and then tossing me down. My stomach began churning. This was crazy – I realized I was getting seasick. The motion was unrelenting and I tried to push through my intense queasiness.

But with each kick and arm paddle, I felt more and more seasick. I did not want to throw up! When I stopped swimming, it didn’t help. The waves kept lifting me up and dropping me. It was awful.

Steve asked me how I was doing and I told him I was feeling nauseous. He was understanding and said, “It’s a bit rough out today. Normally it isn’t this bad.”

He said we would head back and he would show me the nearby sea caves on the way. All I could think about was avoiding throwing up! As we came closer to shore where the caves were, the waves became stronger. I took deep breaths and focused on every stroke.

Steve said that with high tide it would be risky to swim through them. Normally, it was fairly simple. I listened with only one thought in my mind – to get back on land!

The next twenty minutes were an exercise in sheer determination. Steve explained that there were rocks underneath and once I reached the soft sand – there was no time to hang around. I would need to hike up the beach or the waves would pull me back.

I used every ounce of effort to get there and gratefully stumbled up the beach. I clung to a cement wall for at least ten minutes with my heart pounding. It was a herculean effort to get back onto the staircase. Steve tried to pull me up, but I couldn’t do it. Finally, when my panic subsided – I turned and slowly shimmied on my butt up the staircase. After awhile, I made my way to a bench where I collapsed. Oh my goodness, would I ever do this again?

I have a huge smile because I am so happy I made it through!
(and without throwing up)

Steve congratulated me. I just kept hoping the queasiness would end. Tali excitedly joined us. We crossed the street to get to where the club and Jacuzzi were. I was very shaky.

Soaking in the warm water was soothing and I started feeling better. I was quiet and preferred listening to Steve and Tali catch up. My ears to perked up when Steve mentioned he swam the English Channel, New York Harbor and more. He said that serious swimmers did not use wetsuits because that would disqualify them. A wetsuit added buoyancy, which was considered an unfair advantage. He swam all year without one and proudly told me that his license plate was “NOWETSUT.”

I couldn’t believe how humble Steve was about his swimming achievements. I really appreciated that he had shared his ocean enthusiasm with me. Another woman from his group had also joined us and it was her second swim of the day. Now that was passion!

I came home and enjoyed sharing pictures and videos of my adventure with friends. However, until writing this post, I don’t think too many people really knew what it took for me to do it.

I knew I’d write about this experience and kept trying to come up with a good title. The first idea that came to me was “fragile warrior,” and it really fit. I was definitely fragile.

But there was a lot of strength inside me that I could be proud of!

I can’t believe it’s a year since my 65^th birthday. I had a lovely party and would like to share an excerpt of my speech:

This year has been particularly challenging for me.

I could write my own series named “The Crown.” I had three wisdom teeth extracted, and I certainly wasn’t wise in keeping them so long. My brow lift in May was definitely an eye opener – in a good way. Pain-wise, my torn meniscus was probably the worst. I had hoped my knee issue would “cap off” all my challenges. But there was more. It was “crappy” going through a colonoscopy, but everything came out okay. And just when I thought I was “abreast” of everything, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Well, I took my lumps. I’m very thankful it was early stage.

With each health challenge, I’ve found myself saying, “What’s next?” I think that’s a whole lot better than, “Why me?”

Judy in Minnesota spring of ’25.

I believe that what is next for me is a beautiful new beginning!

Posted in Biographical | Tagged courageous, fragile, inspiring, La Jolla, ocean swim, old friends, overcoming challenges, reconnecting with an old friend, swimmer | 17 Comments

ONE WOMAN’S GRIEF TO HARMONY

Posted on January 26, 2025 by Judy

I was honored recently to be featured in a local newspaper article. Performing at a Compassionate Friends candle lighting ceremony after 30 years was a very moving experience. I had no idea it would lead to an interview with a lovely journalist and this beautiful write up.

I have transcribed it for my blog and my performance is below.

Clicking on this image leads to the article.

Judy Unger was 15 years old the first time she picked up a guitar and wrote her first original song, titled “You’re Not the One” following a recent breakup. Years later she then wrote another song for her wedding at the age of 21.

As she started to take life more seriously and wanted to establish herself as a commercial illustrator, she thought to herself, “‘I was immature to keep singing and playing the guitar,’ so I put it aside,” she said.

Life took its course, and she endured challenges within her marriage and faced a mother’s worst nightmare: Unger’s firstborn son, Jason, died at the age of 5 due to a severe congenital heart defect in 1992.

“I didn’t play the guitar much, but I did play for my children, and he loved guitar. He had his own little guitar and would sing along with me,” she said, and after the death of her child, “I told myself I’d never sing again,” she added.

But when time for the funeral came along, she found herself at a loss for words, struggling to find the right thing to say as she said farewell to her son.

After changing a few of the lyrics to one of her original songs, she read them at the funeral.

“I didn’t sing, I just read the words,” Unger said. “I found there was a lot of prophecy in the songs that I had written. There was a song I wrote about facing grief before I ever experienced it.”

While still grieving she had to learn how to navigate raising her other children and also take care of her parents as they grew older and fell ill.

Overwhelmed and trying to remain resilient, she lacked an emotional outlet until one day in 2010 when she was 50, she began to write.

“The writing was so therapeutic … Everything poured out. I couldn’t write fast enough,” she said. “It was about telling my story to help others.”

My daughter took pictures of me for my profile on Insight Timer. I really love how my butterfly earrings are visible on the right side.

Her guitar remained in the closet, untouched for almost 30 years, until a close friend asked her to pull it out and give it a go.

Unger began to play “Beside Me Always” a song that became a reminder of Jason, and a comfort for her.

She eventually began sharing her music on a free meditation app to help others who have experienced grief. Over time, she created a community of 16,000 people on the platform and every Sunday she livestreams in her room, singing songs and performing instrumentals, she said. Over 200 people tune in to watch her.

Unger made her way to the Santa Clarita Valley for the Compassionate Friends’ local chapter 23^rd annual Candle Light Remembrance Program in December at Bethlehem SCV Church in Canyon Country.

Unger was a part of the Compassionate Friends Woodland Hills chapter decades ago and through mutual friends she connected with SCV co-leader Diane Briones, who invited her to come and share with others.

She performed in front of approximately 80 guests who have lost children, grandchildren and siblings too soon.

“I was wanting my guitar playing to be immaculate,” she chuckled as she recalled the night of the ceremony during a recent phone interview. “I did a few wrong chords … but as soon as I start to play the song, I vividly can feel myself surrounded by my son … I really felt so connected to him.”

Many of the audience members who shed tears and found comfort with other loved ones during the lighting ceremony was something that gave Unger chills, she said. “I felt every word,” she added about the songs she performed.

“These feelings are feelings that all of them can understand … it wasn’t about being a singer. I was one of them.”

She describes herself as a “song gardener,” saying, “My songs were like seeds planted when I was a young girl — expressions of grief I hadn’t yet experienced, but that became deeply meaningful later in life.”

Through her music, Unger discovered a way to free herself from the “prison of grief,” she said. “I love sharing these stories with others to give them hope for healing. As a gardener, I continue to nurture these songs and help them grow.”

“I’ll definitely come back,” she added when asked about the lighting ceremony in the SCV. “It was such a special opportunity to share my heart, my music, and my message of hope and healing.”

To listen to Unger’s music visit: https://insighttimer.com/judyunger

Tagged acoustic guitar, bereavement, Beside Me Always, Candle lighting ceremony, compassionate friends, coping with grief, grief, healing, healing music, hope, hope of healing, Insight Timer, loss of a child, meditation music, original songs, singer songwriter | 17 Comments

PAINFUL MEMORIES ARE IN MY PAST

Posted on October 31, 2024 by Judy

Following my final treatment, I rang the bell in the radiation waiting room. There’s a video of this moment at the end of this post.

I put a lot of thought into choosing the title for this story.“Painful memories are in my past” are lyrics from my song “In the Past.” That line worked really well for two distinct stories intersecting. One was about my cancer treatment. The other related to reconnecting with the cardiologist who treated my deceased son at this same hospital 32 years earlier.

I loved the waiting room, especially because the music was soothing and meditative. There was even a piano.

The final step of my breast cancer treatment was receiving radiation daily for one week. I knew exactly where I was going, since two weeks earlier I had been prepped.

The first day was unexpectedly challenging. I was used to lying still on a hard table, but I had a sore shoulder. Putting my arms high up over my head in a stirrup was immediately uncomfortable. After ten minutes, I felt a gnawing pain pulsing through me. I stayed still, but as the pain intensified I broke out in a sweat. I asked the technician when I could move, but he kept telling me I had to wait. Even when I was able to stretch briefly, it didn’t help. There wasn’t any position that was comfortable and I couldn’t get up.

This went on for almost two hours and I had to hold my breath consistently when I was instructed. I used visualization techniques to help myself through the pain.

With positivity, I found the level of perfectionism impressive. The radiologist wanted to target exactly where the radiation would go. The technician told me that the equipment in this room cost seven million dollars. And there were seven rooms!

On that Monday, I received more tattoo markings and my first treatment. I drove home exhausted and made a mental note to take ibuprofen ahead of time.

Tuesday was another difficult day. I had to be there by 6:15 am. It was dark and I was driving carefully in my lane, when a loud thwack shocked me. Another car had just changed lanes right into my door!

I couldn’t make out the license plate while driving. My heart was pounding as the vehicle that hit me sped off. I made a snap decision to continue onward to my appointment.

Thankfully, I wasn’t hurt. My car was drivable and not too badly damaged. But this was certainly an annoyance. I sure didn’t need a hit and run to deal with!

I was so relieved that I had made it to my appointment. As I put on my gown, I told a technician what had happened. He said, “Hey, even if you missed it – never worry. We would fit you in.”

The week flew by and the treatments became easier each day. They lasted approximately 15 minutes. I would gown up and lie down in the correct position. I even remembered the instructions to turn my head sideways, so my head would be further away from the radiation beam.

When instructed, I held my breath as the machine hummed. I imagined I was swimming underwater or preparing to sing a really high note.

Finally, Friday arrived and it was my last day. As I got off the table, the technician congratulated me and I was given the clear plastic breast cup strapped on during those treatments.

A memento that I’m not saving.

It was quite an honor to ring the bell in the waiting room. I was so thrilled that this chapter was now over. And when the room erupted in applause, I was incredibly moved.

As far as painful memories went, I had already put it behind me. All of this was now in the past.

Link to more about my song “In the Past:”

Now it was time for me to address other painful memories from my past.

The night before, I wrote a two-page letter to Jason’s former cardiologist, Doctor R. I planned to find his office and deliver it with a book on my last day of radiation.

Unfortunately, I was disappointed. After walking almost a mile to a distant building from where I was parked, a receptionist told me he had retired.

But I was determined. I was on a mission and would find him another way.

The next day, I awoke with a wonderful feeling of freedom. It was rare, but I didn’t have any chronic pain. I had finally healed from the many things I’d gone through over the past six months.

I was ready to find a way to contact this special doctor.

It didn’t take long. I went on Google and there was an option to have his address and phone number “unlocked” for $5.

Once I had his number, it was harder. I could just mail the book and letter, but what if it wasn’t the correct address? Making this cold call required courage.

I took a deep breath and a woman answered. I introduced myself and told her my son was a former patient of Dr. R. I waited as she called him to the phone.

His voice was very recognizable. Our conversation began by him saying he had received my phone message and certainly did remember me.

He asked how I found his number, and I told him. “Do you have my social security number, too?” he said with a slight chuckle. I nervously laughed and assured him I didn’t have it.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have ever called me and felt badly that I had “stalked him.” I decided to let those feelings go.

I told him that I appreciated how caring he was during the five years of Jason’s life. The fact that he spoke at Jason’s funeral was something I’d never forget. He mentioned that the painting I gave him hung in his office for years and I was touched to hear that.

He talked about how doctors today don’t understand the level of dedication involved. They only looked forward to leaving work and getting to retirement.

It turned out he was not retired. At the age of 79, he still worked part-time at two other facilities. Currently, he had a long commute filling in for another cardiologist that was out sick.

We talked for about fifteen minutes. It was interesting to hear that he had kept up with all the medical advancements through the years. He said he sometimes heard from former patients that were in their forties now. I shared with him that I had a blogging friend close to my age with Jason’s same heart defect. She had contacted me after reading Jason’s story. He was amazed.

Whenever I mentioned Jason, my throat closed up and I couldn’t speak. It was an exercise in swallowing tears and forcing myself to get the words out. In between tearful pauses, I shared about my focus on healing and grief. But most importantly, this was how Jason lived on for me.

I let him know I was mailing him a copy of my book and profusely thanked him for taking my call.

I felt strangely calm after our conversation. I actually wasn’t sure what I was feeling.