Whisper in my ear


Click the blue link below to hear the most beautiful music I believe I’ve ever composed. I will be finished soon.



Message from a woman named Sammi on a grief forum:

I ache for my son…. every second of every minute of every hour of every day. I understand that he is never coming back. I will never see him or touch him or hear his voice or hug him or smell his unique smell, ever again. I know this, I understand this and I have been able to get through each day with this knowledge.

It’s hard not to feel resentment when you see the people around you enjoying the joy their children give them as they move through the milestones of life. I watch as life moves on and think about those of us that have been chosen to walk this horrendous path and try to make sense of how we have been touched with unbearable sorrow while others seem never to be touched. My faith was shattered when this happened and it remains shattered to this day.

Now the hurdle that remains in front of me is the knowledge that I will wake every day to the heaviness on my heart and the hole in my soul with no cure for this and yet I am expected to go on. I love my family dearly but I know I am just existing…. waiting to die.

These are words I wrote two years after my son died in 1992.

These are words I wrote two years after my son died in 1992.

Response from another member:

I sit here crying. You have put my heart into your words. I will never be whole again, just broken and different. I’ve lost my only son, my only child, my only family. I need something to hold onto and pictures of my son just are not enough.


My reply:

There are few ways to describe the amputation of a soul. But you did it so well. I remember wanting to die. Then I realized I was a living dead person for many, many years. Like a blackened forest with no sign of life, one day a shoot takes hold. The forest is never the same. But life can return. I pray it does for you someday. You carry so much love for your son. The hole inside you that has sucked you in will eventually become a huge scar. Life will never be the same, but you won’t be suffering like this. I am so sorry. I cry because I remember that pain well.

2nd Year A

There are indeed many of us walking wounded out there. The problem is that there are so few of us compared to those who do not have to walk this path. It isolates us on a day-to-day basis because we can never put it out of our mind. Many people sympathize with us, but then push that aside and move on. We are screaming inside and smiling on the outside. They cannot possibly understand this pain nor do you want them to. I am where you are…. trying to move on. I find that I am learning how to pretend very well and hide my true feelings.


This was our second holiday season without our beautiful boy and I managed to put the tree up. That’s it. Nothing else. I guess that was a big step.

Judy, Jason & guitars

My words:

Grief is isolation in the purest sense. I surrounded myself with fellow grievers and although it helped me to survive, the exquisite agony was always there. And such a burden it was. It left me unable to think without reliving his death for years and years. I hate to say how long it took me to “feel better.” I do not say recovered. There is no recovery from this. 


My wisdom after 20 years is that healing is possible. It is imperceptible at first and not adequate when the pain is so horrific. But it happened for me. I was blessed to find something where my son returned into my life in a beautiful way – through music. Just this past weekend, my son came into my bed at night and held me close and whispered a new song into my ear. I haven’t recorded my vocal for it yet. But the music speaks – it speaks very clearly.” 


I’m thrilled beyond words that my beautiful son is my inspiration every day of my life. He is gone, but has returned to me in a different form. That is healing. And it is possible. I am living proof.


Love, Judy

 2nd Year D

Judy, that is very beautiful – it brought tears to my eyes. My problem is that I can’t see getting over 34 years of this beautiful soul…. ever. I am happy you have found this way to connect with your son and that it gives you peace.

tell your story

Thank you. You will not get over it. And comparisons aren’t helpful either. When I was deeply grieving I would have told you my situation was worse because I had to deal with a young child whom I was a caregiver for. My daily life was ripped away and his room remained with all his toys and clothes to go through. I thought it was much worse because of that. 


But later on I learned that child loss is a horror at any age. Whether a son lives 34 years or dies as a baby – it is longing for a future that is only a dream and not a possibility.


You cannot see the road in front of you because you are shattered. It is about putting one foot in front of the other. But you are moving forward. Because I am far ahead of you, I cannot really take your hand. But I am proof that peace is possible. 


Sometimes, things are there that we cannot see. Grief is that way. Thank you for telling me that my song touched you. What you don’t know is that my song has lyrics and they are dedicated to you because when I sing them – I know they are for you. My son whispered this song to me for a reason.


I’ll share more soon. Love, Judy


Jason and straw hat

While I weep

© Judy Unger and 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

About Judy

I'm an illustrator by profession. At this juncture in my life, I am pursuing my dream of writing and composing music. Every day of my life is precious!
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  1. Marilyn de Mena says:

    Very, Very beautiful–thank you for sharing. Love, Marilyn


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