myjourneysinsight

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.

Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Advocacy, Aging Parents, Caregiving, compassionate friends, Daily Life, Friendship, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, humor daily life, Music, original songs, parenting, performing, singing, writing | 1 Comment

I ACHE AND WONDER WHERE YOU WENT

Posted on February 22, 2011 by Judy

My mother and father the way I want to remember them.

Message from my cousin, Dorothy:

On Feb 18, 2011, Dorothy wrote:

Judy,

There are many of us waiting on pins and needles to hear anything about your mom. You are the one who lets us know about her. We care a lot about your mother and anything you can write about her means so much to many of us.

Love, Dorothy

I realize you are right, Dorothy – it is time for an update.

It has been so, so painful to write anything about my mom lately. My father has been sick with a terrible cold. I was there visiting last night. My dad could barely speak, and he was coughing continuously. At the same time, he was feeding my mom! I sure hope she doesn’t catch it.

On top of that, he was irritable and my mom wasn’t eating much so it was very sad for me. She started an antidepressant about three weeks ago. I think it has helped her anxiety.

However, she is quite confused, withdrawn, and has been continuing to lose weight. She does not feed herself anymore.

She has had a urinary tract infection, and that hasn’t helped. However, she is finishing up a strong antibiotic and hopefully she is better.

Because I was sick, I haven’t gone to visit her as much, though we speak on the phone several times a day. I tell her to call you whenever possible, because I know it is really good for her.

I am sorry Dorothy to have kept you waiting such a long time for an update. It was so sad for me yesterday, that I wanted to cry.

In perhaps a week, my mom is supposed to be able to start getting some physical therapy, once she has an xray. I will follow up with that.

Thanks so much for your message.

Love, Judy

My dad is holding a hot dog and smiling. He never smiles anymore.

I had a premonition.

The image was so clear. I wasn’t under hypnosis, but it was absolutely vivid. I had just gotten out of my car; the sky was a cerulean blue with puffs of delicate clouds.

I was soaring in that cerulean sky on a balloon; it was propelled by my joy. The balloon was red and shaped like a heart. I wondered if perhaps it was my heart. My music also surrounded me.

As I walked onto the tennis court, I banished the thought. But it came again. It was a worried thought. I try not to allow for worried thoughts, since they are not helpful at all.

Then the thought spoke loudly to me. It said, “Remember the higher you go, the harder you fall.”

I allowed my music to get louder so it would drown out the worried thought. It felt great to be outside and to breathe in deeply. My cold was completely gone.

A few moments later, my cell phone rang. I realized that I had forgotten to turn it off. Since receiving phone calls disturbs everyone, I usually only check for messages while playing tennis. I was grateful we hadn’t started playing yet, so I answered my phone.

The voice on the other line was my mom’s caregiver, Miriam. I said to her in a chipper voice, “Miriam, I’m on the tennis court – I’ll call you back and chat with my mom in about two hours!”

Miriam’s voice was serious. She said, “Judy, there’s a problem.”

I listened as she told me the situation. My mother was refusing to take a shower and was having a total meltdown.

“Judy, her hair is dirty and normally she loves having a shower. Could you talk with her?”

It was then that I felt the first arrow. It pierced my red balloon. The sharpness of it going into my heart was palpable, and I was no longer soaring.

My mother was now on the phone. Her confusion was evident. I told her how she’d feel better with a shower; no one was trying to drown her!

She was very angry as she told me she had already had a shower in the middle of the night. I tried to reason with her, but it was hopeless. Soon she was crying and sobbing.

I could hear my voice becoming strained. The other ladies on the tennis court were listening with sympathy. I heard one of them say, “You can’t reason with dementia.”

My mother’s last words before she abruptly hung up on me were, “I know you’re my daughter, but you just can’t wreck everyone’s lives. That’s what you do, you know!”

The second arrow went even deeper.

I was on a tennis court, but suddenly everything became surreal. I looked for some way to recover. I hit the tennis balls harder and harder, but the pain was becoming quite apparent.

I realized the balloon began to bleed tears inside of me. The tears were falling and filling up my insides. The heaviness caused my stomach to ache.

Then the tears began to fill up my surroundings. It was like I was under water. I noticed the bushes swaying; it reminded me of coral in the sea. I thought I could even see bubbles. It was all so very silent!

I couldn’t hear what anyone was saying because all the voices were muted under the water. That’s when I noticed the music had stopped.

Faintly, I heard a voice say, “Are you okay?” I was startled, but nodded, yes.

My balloon was definitely on the ground now; it had come a long way down.

I told myself that it was not my mother who had said those words to me. I knew that!

My sadness was about not having my mother to cry to. I have missed her so very much!

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, dementia, Hospice, mother, mother and sadness, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, my mother | Leave a comment

I SING FROM MY HEART, PART 1

Posted on February 21, 2011 by Judy

When I received a secretarial award in my senior year of high school, I had submitted my “biography.” More to follow at the end of this post.

It was a special moment for me to acknowledge that a year had passed since I began writing about my life.

Currently, I am trying to compile a book from the over 2,000 pages I wrote last year for this blog. Since I’ve eliminated the word “should” from my vocabulary, I tell myself instead things such as, “I could be working on the book now.” That is because I passionately prefer writing new material over editing my book!

Pressure is never helpful for me. Even though it is boring working on the book, my motivation is the fact that I will be able to reach a larger audience that way.

“I wasn’t very nice to him”

Although I realize I’ve written a lot in one year, there are still more things for me to say. I am not finished writing!

Perhaps now I can “delve deeper.” The casual statements that I’ve made often have memories and stories to tell behind those words.

I begin now with one of those statements found at:

#99 THIS ONE IS LIFELONG

“I find it amazing how I have reconnected with my childhood friends. Steve was the little boy I used to boss around when I was eight years old. He was my slave, and I wasn’t always very nice to him. Steve and I played practically every day together until he moved away when I was ten. I hadn’t seen him or spoken to him until April of 2010. By my count, that would be about forty years!”

“Guess whose visiting today?” my mother said.

It had been two years since my “buddy” Steve had moved away. Today, he and his mother were coming to visit us! I believe I was twelve-years-old that day. Steve was two years younger than I, so he was ten.

The moment they arrived, Steve came running over to me. He was bubbling with excitement to show me a mechanical contraption he had brought with him. Suddenly, I felt disdain – it seemed so silly for me. I told him so.

Steve showed no emotion, or I didn’t notice. I felt very grown up. Suddenly, I felt like our childhood games were now too “immature” for me. He begged me; he wanted to play our favorite game on bikes we named, “chase-away!”

I shook my head, no. He had a lot of other ideas. We used to pretend we were in a submarine while in our bathroom. Nothing sounded like any fun for me. In fact, I started to feel quite annoyed with him. Would he ever “grow up?”

I wasn’t very nice.

I was in the kitchen. His mother, Marilyn, came over to me and said, “Judy, can I talk with you?”

I listened carefully to her words. She said, “You know, Steve has been looking so forward to seeing you – for weeks! He is devastated that you are so disinterested in what he brought to share with you.”

My eyes were wide. The impact of her words stayed with me. I never forgot that moment.

I went back over to Steve. I put my hand on his shoulder and I said, “Let me see that neat contraption you brought – tell me about it!” My attitude changed completely.

That was the very, last time I saw Steve. It was forty years later when I saw him in April of last year.

Working with Steve on Saturday.

It has been less than a year since I began creating song recordings. Certainly, I have improved from when I first started recording with George. Initially, I sang many of my songs in keys that were too high. Sometimes, I didn’t consider nuances of tempo, retard endings, or song format.

Despite all of that, I am amazed at the beauty of George’s arrangements and consider the biggest improvement of all my singing ability. Therefore, since I want my music to be part of my story – I want to have the best vocals I am capable of.

When I reconnected with Steve last year, I wrote about our reunion at:

#38 MY REBIRTH

Since that time, we’ve corresponded daily. Steve has worked tirelessly on creating “mixes” of my arrangements. He experiments and always gives me excellent feedback. Here is a message from him that shares some of his background:

On Aug 6, 2010, Steve wrote:

My first paying job was at the radio station I was volunteering at. I thought the technical work the engineers did was “cool” and whenever I could I would watch them work. I was asked if I was interested in learning how to do “fill in” work. You had to have an FCC 3rd class license to do that (as you were controlling the power level of the transmitter), so I got the study guide and studied it all by myself. I passed the test on my first try (while many adults failed it). Soon after I started working weekends, including past midnight (a “no no” for minors) and I never had any “work permits.” It was great and I was making adult money. Those were fun days. Steve

Lastly, I have begun recording new vocals at Steve’s apartment in Los Angeles. Steve has generously volunteered his time to help me. I am sharing some of our correspondence when we came up with this idea last December.

On Dec 27, 2010, Steve wrote:

I emailed a friend earlier who works in radio (we used to work together), he’s going to loan me a Neumann TLM 103 microphone for as long as I want it, we can see how you sound with it.

Steve

Oh my god, Steve, that’s soooo exciting – I’m honored to have such a good mic!

I can’t wait. When you’re back, look at your calendar and let me know when is good. I’m very open – except for my Borders nights!

Judy

It’s not the $3,300 U87 that everyone wants; this one is about $1,300 I think. It has a lot of the same components as the U87 though – the ones that are important for use as a vocal mic. I’m also going to try a new Mic Preamp, which is a critical component too, and I am hoping will add warmth to the sound.

Steve

All this good equipment – and I’m such a mediocre singer. I’ll give you A+ feeling, though!

Judy

Ps. Hey – you’ve made good recordings for me after I sang into the mic hole on my Mac. Imagine how much better this is going to be!

This past Saturday, Steve and I worked for five hours on three songs. The new versions are now on the blog, and will continue to be “refined.” I entitled this post, “I SING FROM MY HEART” because that is true for me. At this time, I am really trying to improve as a singer, so as to better convey my message.

Below are clips from my voice lesson with Peaches Chrenko. Once again, I am sharing my passion of being a singer/songwriter!

PEACHES LESSON A – 2-18-11

PEACHES LESSON B – 2-18-11

PEACHES LESSON C – 2-18-11

Hmm, a business career might have been more rewarding financially. No way! However, business skills are helpful in life.

Tagged acoustic guitar, childhood friendship, composing, Friendship, guitar, lyric development, lyric writing, Music, singing, songwriting, Steve de Mena, voice lessons, writing | Leave a comment

BLOG ANNIVERSARY POST

Posted on February 17, 2011 by Judy

A poem I wrote when I was seventeen. I don’t know who I was writing to, but I love the message!

One of my favorite paintings. I have been a commercial illustrator since 1981.

When I illustrate – I spread out. I have written a lot about my illustration career on my Art Blog. The link is on the right side of this page (Illustrating My Life).

Performing at Border’s Bookstore.

My childhood friend, Steve, who has been very “instrumental” in helping me with my music. We had not seen each other for over forty years and were reunited last year.

I am sitting between Steve and his mother, Marilyn. Steve was my neighbor and we played together all the time when we were little. He moved away when I was about ten-years-old.

I think I am hearing music in this picture. The music stopped when I “matured.” I guess now I’m immature again!

I now feel the same way I did in this picture. I truly “transformed” this year.

A poem that I wrote while I was active in Compassionate Friends seventeen years ago.

I experienced a lot of trauma when Jason was in the hospital.

Jason only lived five years, but he had a very happy life.

I am performing in North Hollywood. Open mics are a perfect venue for me, and I always purchase a video of my performance. I have watched tremendous improvement!

Before I began my blog, I was writing updates to all my friends when my mother was ill on a respirator in January, 2010.

My mother’s support enabled me to cope with Jason’s illness.

I was always very close to my mom.

It wasn’t too long ago when I was able to still take my mother out to dinner. I miss those times. She died in 2013.

A picture with my brothers, Norman and Howard.

In this picture, Howard is on my left and Norm on my right. I am the “baby” in our family. I can’t believe I played tennis with that tiny, wooden racket!

I love this picture! I am a princess surrounded by my father’s junk. He was an intense hoarder.

I began playing my guitar at the age of fifteen. I am sixteen in this picture.

I am always amazed how I wrote the lyrics to my song, “Through My Music” without experiencing many of those feelings until later in my life. I do not remember how to read or write music anymore.

I created this image to go with one of my stories. Jason died in 1992 when he was five-years-old.

Playing my guitar with Jason, who loved music very much. He was always singing and dancing.

This was one of Jason’s art projects. For me it represents him being an angel with his red heart on display.

I was always a very happy child.

I wasn’t kidding when I said I always had a big smile most of my life. That was until I experienced deep grief and “Zombieland.”

I received a lot of love my entire life from my parents.

A picture with my parents at their nursing facility in April of 2009. My dad was suffering.

I love this picture taken with my mother when I was fourteen-years-old.

My father with my mother while she was in the hospital after breaking her hip. I refused to allow her to have surgery because she wouldn’t have survived it. She ended up being able to walk again.

I loved sharing my songwriting passion with my close friend, Cheryl, while in college. She died in 2008 and I have grieved her deeply.

I love this picture of Cheryl and I.

A picture of my childhood friend, Joni, when we were 8-years-old. We’ve known each other since we were toddlers.

A picture taken with my childhood friend, Joni, after we met with a music producer she introduced me to.

A picture taken while hiking with Joni and Carol. Carol and Joni were both at my twentieth birthday party so many years ago!

My two friends with me when I turned 20.

My friend, Carol, whom I hadn’t seen in thirty years. My ex-boyfriend, Dr. Sam, told me how to find her after he found my blog in 2011.

I reconnected with Sam, who was my boyfriend on and off for four years through high school. Sam gave me a lot of ideas to write about, especially regarding my grief.

Playing guitar for Sam back in 1977. Sam is a doctor and has been very generous and helpful sharing advice with me. We corresponded a lot on my blog about grief.

A picture with Sam as we got ready to leave for my high school prom in 1977.

A page from my diary about my parents.

My song “Alone” was written before I had ever had anyone close to me die.

My two friends, Allison and Lori, with our “subsequent” babies.

I reunited with Allison and Lori, who were both close to me at Compassionate Friends. We all had subsequent babies at the same time.

A picture with my beloved, Jason, when he was five-years-old. He will never age and will always be that way for me.

I know I look really happy in this picture taken after I ‘transformed.”

Peaches Chrenko was my first vocal coach. She was supportive and inspiring for me.

A picture of me working with Peaches when our lessons began in 2010.

One of my seashell paintings that worked perfectly for my Alabaster Seashell song.

My guitar was “attached to my hip” when I was younger.

A sign I made to remind my son to wear his retainer. Did I mention I love Photoshop?

When I was fifteen-years-old, I published a book of mazes.

Miriam was my mother’s caregiver and made my wonderful, life possible. The love and care she gave my mother was simply amazing.

A page from my diary when I was 21. I already felt sadness because my music had “stopped.”

In high school I won a secretarial award. Little did I know that all those typing skills would come in so handy when “blogging!”

This is probably my favorite picture of performing with my guitar when I was nineteen.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2016. 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.