EVEN IF YOU’RE NOT AWARE

Posted on March 10, 2011 by Judy

A card I received from my mom when things were different – I’ve saved so many!

“I was discouraged”

The nursing facility told me my mom would not be allowed physical therapy. My father was broken down about how the caregivers he paid for would not be allowed to assist my mother at mealtime.

My frustration was obvious when I sent out an email update to my friends and family. I received this message back from my friend, Sam, who is a physician.

On Mar 8, 2011, Sam wrote:

Judy, OK, let’s just all take a step back….

With regard to physical therapy, your mom’s dementia could make this very difficult…we certainly do not want her to be in pain, and it might be hard for her to follow a program that would eventually enable her to walk…furthermore, she could be at even greater risk if she did walk… for falls, confusion as to where she is, etc.

As far as eating, I’m not aware of any evidence showing that her condition will be improved if she eats more…most patients with dementia eventually lose interest in food, whether or not someone helps feed them.  What will change is how quickly you and your family are faced with the decision of whether or not to put in a G-tube for nutrition and hydration.  As you have told me, if your mom is happy and comfortable, that is the key thing.

I don’t want to see you, your brothers, and particularly your Dad, be upset, depressed or angry over your mom’s condition…your mom is doing the best that she possibly can…and all of you are doing the best that you can.  Even the facility is probably doing the best that a home facility can (though it may not seem like it).

Do the best that you can for your Mom, but primarily spend time with her and try to enjoy the awareness that she still does have.  Keep her comfortable and happy…but please don’t tear yourselves up over this.  Professional advocacy, or adversarial relations probably won’t change much for your mom in the long run, but will significantly increase your own stress and discomfort.

I know it’s a very difficult situation, and continue to wish you all the best!…Sam

Hi Sam,

Thanks so much for writing this! It is very, very helpful for me.I’m really glad I’m going hiking today. I think being outdoors and “taking a break” from all of this is what I need to feel more centered again. I was actually looking into advocacy and you’re right – it won’t make a difference and could make things worse.

The sad part for me is that my mom does look forward to meals and despite her weight loss; she enjoys eating (though, briefly). It’s like they’re taking away one of the few things she has!

The physical therapy represented another thing that she was hopeful about. She wanted so badly to do those exercises!

Thanks for putting this in perspective. I hope we’re not faced with the G-tube possibility; I don’t want to think about that because we don’t plan to ever go that route with her again.

I think it’s so wonderful how I’ve been able to share my journey with you, which includes hearing about my friends’ ailments and my reconnecting with Carol. Maybe your ears will be burning today!

Everyone enjoys your messages, too. Thank you and have a great day!

Judy

Dear Judy,

I must say, Sam has hit the nail on the head and has articulated, beautifully, the important things here. You are lucky to have his insight as a physician who is also a friend.

I sure look forward to today with you and Joni; it is stunning outside! See you very soon!

Love, Carol

Hi Carol,

I feel much better about everything. I know our hike today will put things in perspective for me!

Tomorrow, I have a meeting. I’m going to see my mom earlier and enjoy the time with her. I don’t feel like I will allow the meeting to “get me down.”

It is “what it is” and my attitude is very important to everyone around me.

Love, Jude

Ps. Watch out – I might be singing as we gather lettuce today!

On Mar 9, Carol wrote:

Let’s see, what songs could you sing? Lettuce Entertain You…Greensleeves…I’m Looking Over A Four-Leaf Clover…Where Have All The Flowers Gone…Oh What a Beautiful Morning…oh, yeah, I could go on and on until you puke!

On Mar 9, Susan wrote:

…..Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy, a kid will eat ivy, too, wouldn’t you? Coming through the Rye, The Wind That Shakes the Barley, The Autumn Leaves, I heard it through the Grapevine, You say Tomato, and I Say Tomahto…

I can’t keep up with such good puns – I conseed!

Actually, I have a voice lesson with Peaches on Friday. I’ll call my lesson – Peaches and HERB.

Love, Judy

A coffee table book Carol received from her husband last week for her birthday. It was full of their photos of favorite foods. I love the book jacket with the Chanterelle mushrooms on the back!

A photo I took yesterday of a portion of Carol’s exquisite gardens.

“She is the one who has kept me alive!”

My father was too depressed to attend the meeting this time.

It was a smaller group of people from her facility than the last time; there were six other people. Everyone was friendly and smiling.

The same familiar issues about my mom were discussed. It still seemed unimaginable to everyone there that my mother did not take pain medication for her “unrepaired,” fractured hip.

A physical therapist told me she had never worked with someone who had a fracture without a surgical repair – she was not comfortable when she saw my mother “grimace.” This was despite my mom verbally expressing that she did not have pain. My mother would not receive any physical therapy. An appointment was made for her to see the orthopedic doctor again.

My mom’s grimace didn’t seem a clear indication of pain to me; it seemed to me that this was more about the therapist’s discomfort of working with someone who did not have hip surgery. I decided patience was warranted, since my mother had an appointment next week with the orthopedic doctor. His decision would over-ride this.

It was very uplifting to hear my mother’s doctor speak. He looked me right in the eye and said, “I have to say your mother has defied the odds. She has done better than I expected. She may actually recover much of her prior function.”

I expressed myself articulately, without emotion. I had many questions. I asked whether my mom could be taken out of the facility as she had been allowed to in the past.

I was told she could leave the facility once she was “signed out.” I asked if her caregiver/companion, Miriam, would be allowed to take her out. That caused some confusion and a discussion followed about who would help put my mom into the car. Then it occurred to everyone that no one from the facility would be there at the other end to take her out of the car!

Finally, I was told it was allowed and I felt relieved. Certainly, it was important to see if my mom was even up for it.

However, it would be very exciting and uplifting for her to look forward to such an outing.

My father told me, “I don’t want her going anywhere – it’s too hard!”

Miriam told me, “I can’t wait to take her to the places she loved before. It’s no trouble for me at all!”

Miriam and I both decided – we wouldn’t worry my father, so instead we would tell him after any outing how it went.

Before I left the meeting, I spoke with a nurse practitioner about my mom’s dementia. She gave me a lot of advice about how to approach my mother’s “confusion.” My term “dance” of dementia fit her philosophy perfectly; dancing was a “lighter” approach versus “correcting.” So I was definitely doing something positive all along by dancing with my mom, in that regard!

Miriam and my mother were waiting for me. I had bought lunch for the three of us. The weather was beautiful and we sat at a shady table outside the dining room. I told Miriam, “You are allowed to feed my mom whenever a family member is there; when you are with me or my dad it’s no problem.”

Prior to that, Miriam told me she did not think it was allowed.

I noticed my visit had lifted not only my mother’s spirits, but Miriam’s as well. I had played my guitar for both her and my mother in the garden earlier in the morning. Miriam was humming along to my songs and it was obvious that she knew my songs by heart. How wonderful that was for me!

When I first arrived, Miriam’s eyes were downcast. Now her eyes were bright and she looked happy. She said, “When you are here I feel like I am not alone. I want to do so much for your mom! But there’s less and less that I can do!”

I reminded her to focus on what she could do rather than what she could not.

My mom ate her lunch with relish – I couldn’t help but throw in a pun; I had brought her a hot dog for lunch! She did not need anyone to help her eat the hot dog or the French fries. It was great to see her eating.

During most of my visit, my mom didn’t make much sense. But her happiness was very apparent and I held onto that instead.

It was time for me to leave; my mom began to fumble with her purse. I knew she was looking for money. I told her how appreciative I was, that I had used her credit card to pay for our lunch. Hearing that made her beam.

Suddenly she turned to Miriam and said, “Where did I ever find my daughter? How did I find such a daughter? She is the one who has kept me alive!”

Miriam’s eyes were shining as she listened. “Judy, please put that in your blog – promise me!”

I hugged my mom and reminded her that god has been looking after her and has kept her alive. Her will to live was remarkable and my goal was simply to keep her as comfortable as possible.

I left and immediately listened to music. I realized I had eaten far too much lunch, but decided to be gentle with myself.

Clicking on this makes it larger.

This sign really spoke to me. It was at the trailhead where I hiked, yesterday.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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.

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SOMEHOW I’M STILL PLAYING

Posted on March 5, 2011 by Judy

When she was young, she had a vision of playing her music for a lot of people on a large stage.

Though she loved to sing, she disliked her own voice. But it was completely different for her to hear the voice of her guitar. It spoke loudly and its beauty captivated her.

She carried her first guitar everywhere until it became sandy and worn. As she “matured” her music began to fade away. Her creativity was now focused upon her art career.

She thought the music might stay if she had a more beautiful guitar. Her devotion to art, which had stolen her musical passion, allowed for the money to buy a special treasure.

When she bought it, she knew that it was special. First of all, the guitar was perfumed with a sweet, odor of rosewood. Its delicate tone resonated with every note. It was her jewel and she considered it the only true treasure she had ever owned.

When she went to play her beautiful instrument she found it very painful. Her fingers were tender and sore. If her new guitar could speak it would have told her a simple fact. It only accepted a passionate musician; nothing less was acceptable. There was no way to fool it.

Only with practice and time would she be allowed to play without pain. Sadly, it was not possible for her to do that.

The years passed and the guitar became dusty and forgotten.

Her exquisite guitar waited for her. It never spoke or called out. Many years later, she opened the case and dusted it off. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready to play it, but this time she played despite the pain.

And then one day, the pain stopped and was replaced with ecstasy.

Some correspondence with my childhood friend, Steve:

On Mar 3, 2011, Steve wrote:

It’s funny; when I read interviews with musicians they invariably say they never listen to their own recordings once they’ve completed them. But you play your own to death. I have to admit I have always wondered if musicians DO listen to their recordings a lot and just feel self-conscious or vain to say so in interviews. Steve

Hi Steve,

That’s interesting about other musicians. I find though, that I don’t listen to my old songs much, only new ones. I pick them apart. However, as I’ve improved, I’ve enjoyed listening more and more because there is less that I pick apart.

I think what has helped my new songs come out better is that I do a lot of preliminary recording to hear how the song structure and vocal sounds. That translates to a better arrangement and vocal with George.

Lately, I’ve enjoyed listening to simple, acoustic recordings to see how my voice is improving. I also want to be a better live performer and that helps me.

Thanks so much for your insight, Steve!

I thought about this exchange. It occurred to me that for most of my life I always hated to hear my recorded voice. When I began playing my guitar again, I had to listen to an old cassette from thirty years ago in order to relearn my songs.

It was painful!

Here is the truth of how I feel about my music and my recordings:

I love most of George’s instrumentation on my songs.

I marvel at my improved voice.

I am filled with amazement at the melodies to my songs.

I feel moved by my lyrics, which connect to my heart.

I believe I am listening to songs that are not my own. I believe these songs were only channeled through me.

The voice I hear singing is not my voice either. It is someone else that I could only have dreamed of being.

I recently wrote about how humor has helped me. Yesterday, nothing felt funny as I struggled with tremendous stress regarding my parents at their nursing facility.

It was helpful for me to write about my stress, for sure. Rather than be impulsive, I did not send my emotional writing to the facility. I decided to wait and see what would happen with the “feeding program” the facility promised to implement.

I began to see alternatives that were beyond fighting “policies.” I did not have a grasp of the law as I had when I advocated for my children. so I decided I might have to find other ways to manage with the situation. This morning, my mother did not eat any breakfast.

A nurse offered to feed her and my mother said, “No thank you.” That was it.

Her caregiver, Miriam, went and bought her something and gave it to her afterwards. It might have been inconvenient, but at least my mother wasn’t hungry.

Last night, I visited my parents and joined them for dinner. The progression of my mother’s dementia left me with an interesting observation.

In the beginning, when my mother didn’t make sense it happened occasionally. Now it was the other way around. That was because most of the time my mother made no sense. Whenever she had a lucid moment, I found myself desperately grabbing onto it!

I held onto the simple fact that despite her confusion my mother was able to still appreciate my presence and express how much she loved me!

I left the facility to perform at Border’s. I was playing an extra night, because my usual schedule was every Sunday with an occasional Friday or Saturday.

One of the benefits of performing regularly was that I no longer became nervous. I was familiar with setting up everything now, and extremely comfortable with my audience.

I carried my gear bag and guitar past two tables that were close to where I would be singing. The people at those two tables were conversing loudly. I had great difficulty singing my songs.

Even though I didn’t want to alienate my audience, I politely asked the noisy people if they could move back in order for me to be able to concentrate on my singing. It was so difficult for me to sing over their loud laughter that I was thinking of stopping and waiting! I decided this was good practice, and part of the challenge of being a performer. I tried to be patient.

Finally, the noisy people left and I was able to sing in a peaceful state. I didn’t have my usual, big smile, but I still felt joyful and intensely appreciative that I could share the music I loved.

I allowed my songs to speak for me. My hour was soon up and I thanked my audience for listening. I was actually surprised when several people clapped enthusiastically and one man commented loudly to me, “You are awesome!”

I packed up my equipment and waited for my “free smoothie.”

While I was waiting, a woman came over to me with tears in her eyes. She shared that her grandmother had dementia. She said my song moved her so much she had to get up and walk around.

Another man shared that he had heard me several times and would certainly be back to hear me again.

There was certain, young man who I noticed had definitely connected with my songs. I could tell he wanted to speak to me, and sure enough he smiled and walked over to where I was waiting. I said to him, “I think I’m kind of old to sing songs for someone your age.”

He said, “You might have reached millions of people with your beautiful songs when you were younger, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Your life experience is what makes your songs so touching. Instead of reaching a million people, you could have a great impact on a few and change lives.”

I thanked him and told him that the few people I’ve touched have already made my life so meaningful.

I sipped my “free smoothie” as I left Border’s. I was smiling again.

I stepped into the night air, and a vision came over me. I was playing my music for a lot of people on a large stage.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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.

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FINDING THE LAUGHTER

Posted on March 3, 2011 by Judy

An artistic, filtered photo of me playing my guitar at the beach with my mother on my left. I could be playing the song “Waterfalls” on my old, classical guitar. I’m probably 19 or 20 in that picture.

Below (clicking on the link) is a recording of my rediscovered, instrumental piece called Waterfalls. This is a preliminary recording “for fun;” I plan to re-record it with a better microphone later on. My cassette version from thirty years ago was recorded on REDISCOVERING WHAT I LOVE TO DO – PART 1

WATERFALLS ACOUSTIC GUITAR INSTRUMENTAL – Copyright 2010 by Judy Unger

Below are some excerpts from my recent, voice lesson with Peaches. Since it’s held at a public park in a “side room,” there is a lot of extraneous noise. I think the dance class nearby made a lot of clunking noise in the background – so I apologize. Peaches helped me a lot to deal with my perfectionism regarding redoing many of the vocals on my songs. I plan to work again with my childhood friend, Steve, this weekend.

#1 PEACHES LESSON – 3/1/11

#2 PEACHES LESSON – 3/1/11

For many years, humor was absent from my life. As I’ve healed from grief, I’ve learned how humor is a wonderful, coping mechanism. With my transformation last year, I‘ve found that even when I’m sad I still see so many things to laugh about every day.

When I first began my blog, I often wrote about my daily life in a humorous way. It’s gotten harder for me to do that since my children don’t want me to write anything about them anymore. That has left me with only my pets to write about!

In honor of “finding the laughter” (An opposite of my lyric line “losing the laughter”), I wrote some new lyrics for a few of my songs. Here goes:


I’ve written a song to tell you I’m funny

When something goes wrong

I crack up instead

I laugh at my life, at everything crazy

I want you to know

What humor has done for me


And I know if I search my whole life through

I’ll always find a joke or two

I can search and search for new puns, too

And suddenly I am no longer blue


Through my laughter I forget

All the times I’ve cried

When I step in something squishy

I’m filled with cold indifference

I made this photo small to lessen the impact. This is not poop, by the way. Our cat has “irritable bowel syndrome” and regurgitates his food.

My husband’s latest Internet purchase; it lights up and flashes. Good thing it doesn’t say “Kick me!” When our dog is “underfoot” that happens sometimes!

I’ll start my post with another one of my “good lists:”

1. I received a prescription from my mother’s orthopedic doctor who delivered a “second opinion” My mom will be allowed to begin physical therapy and WALK! I was told my mother most definitely would never be allowed to walk again without surgery for her broken hip.

2. Twice in one day, store clerks said to me, “You have such a great smile!” I hear that a lot, and I smile even larger when I hear it!

3. The last two times I’ve played tennis, my game was on! Most of my shots were “winners” and I had my opponents on the run. I wish I could play that way every time!

4. I love my music. I am composing another song from my old song sheet!

5. I rediscovered one of my challenging, original classical compositions (Waterfalls). I did not think I’d remember the fingerings, and suddenly my fingers found them.

My mom can now have physical therapy, but I’m still crossing my fingers that it will happen.

My “bad list:”

1. I was bitten by my conure parrot and my guitar fingers were maimed! I think my grouchy parrot hasn’t had enough showers with me lately.

2. That white cat is still regurgitating presents for me to clean. I could have put on my good list that I have learned not to step in those “gifts!”

3. This is actually one for the good list, too. I’ve decided to have my car trunk repaired so it stops hitting me on the head. Expensive, but I think my brain is worth more!

4. Lately, I’ve been counting the years until my kids are grown and on their own. I can’t wait until they can take their pets with them when they leave! My kids tell my husband and I that they’ll be staying, and we’ll be the ones leaving!

My parrot is like a teenager. It bites!

Last week I had so many funny email exchanges with my friends. Many of my friends have caught onto my appreciation for good puns. Believe it or not, some jokes came to cheer me up in regards to my mom’s dementia. It has been so tragic for me, that I’m amazed anything could be funny around it!

On Feb 23, 2011, Amélie wrote:

Here’s how not to take anyone’s dementia personally, Judy:

I was taking care of an elderly woman with dementia and incontinence issues last year.  One particular morning, I cleaned up the kitchen and the rest of the place.  When I left, everything was in order.

Later that afternoon, the woman’s daughter came into the apartment to find a huge, heaping pile of human feces in the middle of the kitchen floor. She asked her mother what happened, and her mother replied:

“Amélie did it.” Yep. You just have to know when the illness is talking.

Love, Amélie

I guess I’m feeling better today – because I see a lot of humor in this. I want to say, “NO S%$T!

I could come up with a lot more puns around this, but it actually is heartbreaking. Thanks so much for your message of support, Am. This sounds like a very difficult job and I applaud you for doing it.

It’s a horrible illness. If it happens to me, I might want to jump off a building.

Love, Judy

Unfortunately, by the time it happens, you might want to jump on the building instead! 🙂  …Sam

I guess it’s a no window situation! I wouldn’t have any foundation to base those delusions on either. And regarding buildings – there would be quite a lot of stories to tell!

Judy

I hate to poo poo your point, Judy, but that would be a crappy solution to the problem. Glad you are feeling better. I worry so when you punish yourself. Susan

I wore my USTA T-shirt the other day when I played tennis. It was from when I went to Sectionals – oodles of years ago. My friend, Debby, is on my right.

A better memory of my parents.

In the email exchange below, I started out corresponding with Steve about some songs we would be working on. I shared my message with my friends and had some interesting replies!

On Feb 27, 2011, Judy wrote:

Hi Steve,

I heard that weird note again on the mix for It Might Have Been. It’s at 2:37. Wonder why it sounds so weird – perhaps it could be taken out or it needs tuning?

By the way, I saw my mom over the weekend. She’s been VERY confused. Lately, she’s convinced that my dad has a girlfriend on the side!

Judy

Regarding that note, I think it’s a 60’s organ with heavy vibrato. I’ll bounce it down without that part.

Steve

“She’s convinced that my dad has a girlfriend on the side.”

To paraphrase Steve: That sounds like an 80’s organ with heavy vibrato!

Sam

Oh my god, I just fell off my chair in hysterics. My kids came in to see what was wrong – I had to totally come up with a diversion!

There’s an old music joke about J.S. Bach, “Why did he have so many children?” Because his organ didn’t have any stops.

Steve

Very funny, Steve. He sure was a good player.

The actual discussion with my mother was not funny, unfortunately. I attempted to point out to her how my dad was devoted and it was “out of the question” that he had a girlfriend. She remained unconvinced and unreasonable.

The punch line was when she said, “If he has a girlfriend, I’m okay with it. He can do whatever he wants with his energy.” My dad has no energy and can barely make it to have dinner with my mom every night!

Judy

Ps. Laughter is such a great thing!

A snapshot I made from my parents’ wedding movies.

“She wants you to feel better!”

On Feb 28, 2011, Erin wrote:

I cried listening to your song, Judy. Thank you for sharing it with me. It was incredibly touching, and brought me a release. It sounded like my mom, so identical in love. I miss her so much. The pain has been eating me up on the inside. I cry out for her, knowing she is gone. I loved her so much.

I am in so much pain from my back right now that it’s just plain, downright difficult to go on. I don’t know how I am even making it. I never eat. My mind is hurting from so much grief. I better stop now before I lose it completely.

Erin

Dear Erin,

I want to write to you about your pain. Your mother’s love is what is going to help you survive. With your eyes closed, I want you to feel her love surrounding you. Listen for her voice. I am certain she would tell you that if you ate something you would feel better. She wants you to feel better! She wants you not to be in pain over her death. There must be a way to alleviate your back pain – something that could help you feel better if you are open to that.

Your mother’s legacy is within you!  You carry her memory and her love. You have a lot to give and could help a lot of other people who are grieving. First, your survival is the most important. I know you will survive and come out of this – but it’s such a painful road and there is no timetable.

One day, when the sun is shining and you’ve survived – you will realize what a gift of strength your mom gave you.

With love, Judy

Judy,
 it is just so hard. I am going to try to remember what you are saying to help me get through this. I could not sleep last night. I have had chronic back pain for eleven years, including two surgeries. I fear the worst with all of this. It is so cold and gloomy today. The cold, brittle wind tosses me to and fro. You are a good person. I am so glad you’re here. 
Hugs, 
Erin


Erin,

Your physical pain makes your grief that much harder – I am so, so sorry. Have you ever tried hypnotherapy? It helped me a lot with my grief.

Thank you for your compliments about my being a good person and that you are glad I’m here. I didn’t always feel glad to be here. I suffered a lot. But now that I am happy again, I like to give other people hope that some day they might feel better.

Love, Judy

Judy, you are a wonderful person. Thank you for giving of yourself. I’ve not tried hypnotherapy. I am curious. I will ask my psychologist about it this Thursday. Your support is like a strong hand that lifts me up. 
Love,
 Erin


Oh Erin, I’m so glad that I’ve helped you.

Many people do not understand what hypnotherapy is about. So much of it has helped me with a positive attitude. Having more upbeat thoughts translated to feeling better for me. Our subconscious controls so much of how we feel. We are used to what is familiar and trauma buries itself in there. Even being conscious of this, doesn’t allow for change. Hypnosis accesses the subconscious and allows for amazing results – if you are open to it.

In the meantime, many changes happen when you start to control your thoughts. Focus on “filtering out” anything that is negative and leads to sadness. Find those rays of white light that your mother is sending you.

With love, Judy

I picture with my mom from about seventeen years ago. Wow, did I have “big hair” and a big head!

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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.

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YOU’VE BEEN ON MY MIND

Posted on February 26, 2011 by Judy

A sympathy card I received after my 5-year-old son, Jason, died in 1992. This card is dated October 14th, which is my birthday.

“It was in January, only three months later”

One of the worst times during bereavement is around three to six months. The “cushion of shock” has begun to wear off. The true agony and realization begins.

I was very unapproachable during my grief. There was a lady from Jason’s preschool who was the organizer for all the dinners that had been brought to my home. Her name was Audrey. I was so grateful to her for being so supportive and kind. Those dinners made a huge difference.

Audrey confided to me that it had been extremely upsetting for all the parents and children at our preschool. It threw everyone off-balance that Jason had died. Audrey added that she was looking for spiritual guidance to help her deal with her feelings.

One day she called me and her voice was anxious. She said, “Judy, this is unbelievable! There has been another death!”

It was in January, only three months after Jason had died. I listened to the story. The child who had died was a six-year-old girl. Although she was no longer attending the same preschool, she was certainly known by many people there since she was there a year earlier.

She was a bright and healthy child. It had happened so suddenly and swiftly that it was unbelievable. Although she had seen a doctor on Friday for an ear infection and was taking an antibiotic, over the weekend she did not improve. Her mother planned to take her to the doctor after dropping her son off at school. She waved goodbye to her daughter, who was weakly waiting in bed.

When her mother returned, the little girl was dead. The infection had traveled to her daughter’s heart; she and her husband were told it was just one of those rare circumstances.

I noted that this child died on January sixth, and my son had died on October sixth – three months to the day! When I heard this story, I was living with my own torment. However, I decided I could share my torment with anyone who was also suffering.

I went to see the parents and began one of my “friendships in grief.”

My new friends were Julie and Eli. They accompanied me to my meetings at Compassionate Friends and Julie and I became especially close.

How was it that a healthy child could die so suddenly? Because my child had a heart condition, I had always felt some anticipation of losing him.

My new “friends in grief” had no anticipation or preparation. That made their shock so much worse. I witnessed their anguish of wondering what could have been done differently so their daughter might have lived!

The first year of bereavement held exquisite agony. I was pregnant, and withdrew from the world around me. I shared a lot of it with Julie. Our children were both buried at the same cemetary.

She shared with me, too. I remember certain things very clearly, and I see the image in my mind. It was on her daughter, Stephanie’s birthday. She told me she baked Stephanie’s favorite cake, and cried inconsolably in her kitchen as she made it for the daughter who would never have another birthday again.

Julie and Eli were our good friends now. Because Julie was an excellent cook, we were often treated to wonderful meals at their home. I cannot even count how many times Julie would cook a casserole dish for me and bring it to my home.

I delivered my daughter, and it was a few months after that when Julie called me to tell me her latest news.

She and Eli had adopted a baby girl!

It was so interesting for me – her new daughter’s birthday was only a few hours after my daughter’s. Even though the birth date was the day after, it was still amazing for me how close in age they both were.

I drifted away from Julie and Eli when I became busy with my children and my parents’ care. I believe I also wanted less and less reminders of anything related to my bereavement.

The years passed and I didn’t see Julie and Eli very often. It was a poignant moment when I saw them at a memorial service for the woman, Audrey, who had made our introduction. The woman who was upset about Jason’s death, had died suddenly.

A few months ago, I called Julie and Eli to let them know about my writing, and how I had changed. It was important for me to share with them because they knew what I had gone through firsthand!

Julie and I in 2006.

The two, subsequent daughters.

“Last night”

I wrote last about my mom’s dementia episode. I visited my mom after her meltdown over taking a shower. She was confused, but calm. There were so many new challenges now. My mother had an appointment for a dental exam, and it was in the early morning on a day when her caregiver was unexpectedly late. My mother refused to allow for the dentist to look in her mouth or to have her teeth cleaned.

I explained to her social worker that any appointment now needed to be planned so someone could be there who could reassure my mother.

Although my “balloon of joy” had definitely landed for a while, I allowed for it and submerged myself in anything that brought me comfort. I focused on organizing my book and created another post for my art blog. My ordinary life was also very challenging this week, because I still have teenagers at home!

Therefore, I looked forward to singing at Border’s last night. Being unable to sing with a cold a few weeks earlier had me appreciating my good health.

I had a plan to meet some friends (from my “special moms” support group) at a restaurant across the street for dinner, when I was done singing. One of the moms who had moved away was back in town visiting. I had written about her; she was brutally assaulted a few months ago. Thankfully, she was healing and doing better.

It was raining, but I felt alive and happy as I entered Border’s to sing last night. I was also glad to know that this particular Border’s where I performed would not be closing!

I hooked up my guitar to the amplifier and set up my microphone.

I looked up, and I was in shock. There were both Julie and Eli! I gave them warm hugs and felt joyful tears well up inside of me. I couldn’t believe they had come to hear me sing!

As I sang the words to many of my songs about grief, I felt the intense connection of knowing how “real those words” were to my friends. I especially knew they could understand my feelings surrounding a subsequent child, as I sang my recent song, No Words for You.

However, I must share that I did not feel like my teenagers were “butterflies” this past week!

Halfway through my show, a group of women waved to me as they all came in and sat down. My good friends and “special moms” had come to hear me play.

Last night, I truly sang from my heart!

My “special moms” that came last night to hear me sing (from left to right) – Kristina, Amy, and Tauni.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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.

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