THE SAND AND THE SEA, TEN YEARS LATER

The sand and the sea. . . conjures up the driftwood prints I did when I first began my art career.

Clicking the blue link below, will play the song:

ELI ELI – HOME RECORDING OF A SONG BY HANNA SENESH – 1/9/11

The title for this story is taken from the lyrics to an Israeli song that I used to sing called Eli, Eli.

The words “The sand and the sea” create wonderful imagery for me. At the end of this story, those images actually appeared for me while under hypnosis. 

My good and bad list:

Bad:  My mother who almost died from surgery for a broken shoulder doesn’t trust the surgeon who did the surgery. He is now telling her she needs the screws out. She needs a second opinion, so I tried to “delegate.”

Here’s my list:

1. I told her to ask my brother to set it up. She asked him.

2. I asked her primary doctor if he knew of anyone and could arrange it. He said, “I don’t know of any other shoulder specialists around. I asked her surgeon, and he doesn’t know of anyone either.”

3. I thought magically it might happen, without everyone just “dropping the ball.”

4. I thought her shoulder might be fine and her pain would go away while I was waiting.

Good: This morning, I made a phone call to a shoulder specialist, who was recommended to me by a friend of my mothers. The appointment is set!

Bad:  My mother just called. She said, “Honey, I think there’s something wrong with my telephone. It didn’t work at all when I brought it with me to an appointment.” I explained to her that a cordless phone is not a cell phone. It won’t work when it’s taken miles away. I am sad that she doesn’t understand telephones anymore.

Good:  My mother is alive and she loves me very much.

I am the youngest. I have two, older brothers but the responsibility for my parents fell upon me. I am the daughter, and that’s why.

 Email correspondence with my childhood friend, Steve:

I saw you wrote about Diane Warren in your blog. My mom was acquainted with her during mom’s time at KKBT radio. I don’t remember how they knew each other; maybe Diane was a friend with someone at the station. I think Diane’s offices were up on Sunset near the station. 

Anyways I read a lot about her at the time, I think she is quite unique in the music business, for a woman, to be such a highly, coveted songwriter and yet not a public performer and pretty much unknown to the average music listener.

Music publishing is definitely where it is at money-wise and she had her own company since the beginning and must be loaded. I can remember Mom saying how astounded she was way back then, with these immense royalty checks coming in from all over the world. This was an interview I ran across a year or so ago about her. It appealed to me, as it was very technically oriented, as to how she works.

http://www.soundonsound.com/sos/aug08/articles/warren.htm

By the way, am I the only guy here?  🙂 Steve 

Hi Steve,

Last night I googled the name Diane Warren and followed through with learning more about her. I read the part about her controlling her own “songbook” and having her own company.

I love her! Her music and lyrics are complex and simple at the same time. She is very human, and works in a very old-fashioned way. She doesn’t use a computer or anything. I have to pat myself on the back for adjusting to the digital age. It wasn’t easy for me to get on board!

I was fascinated to read about her song writing process. It was very similar to mine. You don’t have to argue about her “not being contemporary.” I think she is still very popular. She does a lot of songwriting for movies, television, and even American Idol!

As far as you being the only guy on my email list, you must know that I have been a very isolated person by being an artist. I never had to get “dressed up” to go to work. I only go food shopping. Most of my contact with other people has simply been women that I’ve played tennis with. It’s been a while since I was an art teacher.

Anyway, I’m glad you’re on my email list. Your questions are insightful. Maybe I can get more feedback from you when I’m putting my book together. I appreciate both you and your mom supporting me all the way back to the beginning! 

 “My blog title is I’M TAKING OFF”

I have cleaned up messes today from all three animals: puppy doo doo, kitty vomit, and parrot splat. How in the world did my life end up like this?

My daughter came into my studio and when she glanced at my screen she started laughing hysterically! I asked her what it was that was so funny.

She said, “Mom, I thought your blog title was, “I’M TAKING IT ALL OFF!! You had me thinking you were a stripper!”

Well that’s me; stripping off my trauma! 

 “Hypnotherapy”

At my recent hypnotherapy session, I had a lot of mind “wheel spinning” going on. I shared with Connie all the challenges I was going through with my teenage daughter. 

The current situation felt too complicated for me to possibly solve. Trying to discuss the problem solving aspect wasn’t helpful for me. It led to frustration and anguish. As usual, when I was with Connie I talked a lot. She listened well. I tried to hear whatever she told me, because it was always helpful.

Eventually, all the wheel spinning became tiring. I decided I could just “hold off” on finding a solution to the situation. Sometimes, time did reveal things to me that I couldn’t understand presently.

I felt a lot of conflict because I had opened up and wrote a lot about all of the many challenges I’ve faced with my children. Especially for my daughter, she was shy and would not have wanted me to write about her. Even though I had changed her name, people would still know she was my daughter. How could I possibly solve this problem?

Initially I believed I wanted to reveal what was so challenging in my life. I had the thought that perhaps it might help others. The fact that I shared so much had me feel like I was selfish. I had taken care of so many people for such a long time. By writing all of my feelings, it was a way of doing something for myself.

After I said that, I realized that the word selfish was not really a helpful word.

I told Connie, “Okay, I am trying to heal myself; perhaps at my childrens’ expense. I hope the result will still be positive someday. I hope someday all of my children will understand that I was healing and will forgive me for sharing so many personal things.”

During hypnosis, I relaxed and floated off. Somewhere in the clouds her voice said to me, “Can you see anything that is comforting in your situation right now?” Is there some image that you can find to help you get through all this?”

An image came to me. It was so clear. It was amazing. I felt like I was there. Here was what I told her.

“I am sitting facing my daughter. We are on a patio overlooking the ocean at a villa, somewhere in Italy perhaps. It is ten years from now. I am very, very rich. We are traveling through Europe. Did you know I’ve hardly gone anywhere? I have never had a vacation that’s relaxing. It’s a beautiful day. There is an aqua ocean in the distance. It is sunny, and she and I are enjoying our trip together.”

I continued to describe my vision to Connie.

“My daughter looks confident and beautiful,” I said. “She is laughing and enjoying her life. She is amazed that my promise that I’d be successful actually happened. She didn’t believe it!”

 © Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. 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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WHAT IS MOST HELPFUL

A great sympathy card. i don’t recognize the name or have any memory of the woman who wrote it, however.

There will sometimes be thoughtless remarks made by people who don’t understand what grief feels like. During my bereavement, many remarks that felt hurtful were said to me with the intent of trying to make me feel better. I understood that. 

One of the most useful ideas I learned from hypnotherapy was adding some filters into my life. My favorite ones were called “helpful” and “not helpful.” Incorporating things that are “helpful” improve my life. When something is “unhelpful” for me, I simply discard it without pain. When I started to separate the helpful from unhelpful in my life, I automatically felt much better. 

After I shared my story about Jason on my blog, I received an unhelpful email message from a friend. She was not intending to upset me. But her message was a reminder of how sometimes statements to someone grieving are unintentionally hurtful. 

Her message was this: “I am so, so sorry about your loss and other sad situations in your life. I do hope you will get well and take care of yourself.” Her first sentence was perfectly helpful. Her second sentence was not at all helpful. I felt that it implied that I was sick. Grief is not a sickness; it is most certainly an unfair circumstance. I also felt she implied I might get better if I started taking better care of myself. That felt very judgmental on her part. 

How much better her remark might have been if she had said, “I think it’s great that you’re writing and feeling better!” Because my friend was not trying to hurt me, I would never share with her directly how unhelpful her comment was. However, this is a perfect opportunity for me to share my insight with others. I would love to encourage more understanding about more sensitive ways of comforting someone who is grieving. 

First off, the greatest comfort comes with the acknowledgment of caring and being there. Demonstrating love and compassion circumvents the common feeling during grief that there can be no understanding if someone hasn’t experienced it. Sharing memories and mentioning the name of their loved one is very important. 

I remember that before I experienced grief, I was clueless about how to approach people who were grieving. It is awful when someone you love is suffering with grief. There is extreme helplessness and a wish to make the pain go away. Unfortunately, that leads to many remarks that are well intentioned but have the reverse effect. Comments like, “It’s time for you to move on with your life or get over it,” reflect other peoples’ discomfort around grief. It’s hard for anyone to imagine that grief simply won’t go away, and that statement reflects the wish that life could resume as it once was for the person suffering. But for someone who is tormented by grief, it is impossible to get over it, and those statements only intensify their pain. Sometimes, the frustration from feeling the lack of understanding further isolates the person grieving. The depth of pain can tear relationships apart. 

I have lived all of the stages of grief. For me the pain was what it was, it couldn’t have been any worse or any easier. Initially, the shock was simply a cushion for the impending anguish. In my depressed stage, I was in bed and under the covers. There wasn’t any person who could comfort me, certainly not my husband. When I was angry, I didn’t want anyone there to comfort me. I told everyone to leave me alone because I was simply in too much pain. Many bereaved people have driven others away during the angry phase of their bereavement. Grievers are wounded and not much can be expected of them.         

During my angry stage of grief, I avoided being with people because I couldn’t stand the thoughtless remarks. It wasn’t easy at all to stuff my feelings during the angry phase of my bereavement. It’s possible that during that stage I verbally responded with the answers I’m about to share. And perhaps a lot of people avoided me even more after that. Later on, I accepted that the intentions behind them were loving, and I could accept good intentions knowing that grief situations are awkward for many people. 

In a moment, I want to share what I actually felt inside with the following list of common statements that unintentionally caused me pain. I have actually said some of these same statements to other people, so please do not cringe if you’ve made these remarks to someone in the past. Please understand that I am sharing how I felt when I was in my deepest pain. Once I healed, my feelings surrounding these statements became much more tolerant. 

Here is my list of what is not helpful to say to someone grieving: 

“He’s in a better place.”

The only place he belongs is with me. There is no better place. How dare you insinuate there could be a better place than in my arms right now! 

“He’s with God now.”

God doesn’t need him this young! Why would any God give me this amazing gift and then take it back? What kind of God is that? Is there even a God out there? Why is he better off with God than with me? Couldn’t God just wait a little longer? 

“There are some things in life that we just can’t understand.”

Well, you’re darn right about that one! I’d ask you to please explain that for me, but you’ve never gone through this; so how could you possibly know? 

“At least he’s not suffering anymore.”

Oh, I’m just so, so selfish! I don’t care! I want him back on this earth right now, even if he’s suffering. That way, I could take care of him again! I want to smell him, hold him, caress him and love him. I know I can alleviate his suffering; I am certain of it!

Oh my, now I am defective because I am thinking more about my own loss than his pain. What is the matter with me?

Why did he ever have to suffer at all? The unfairness of the suffering is what hurts. Emphasizing the finality of death with his suffering being over is not comforting. I don’t need death to be explained, when there truly is no good explanation. I’d rather hear, “It’s too bad he ever had to suffer” or “I’m so sorry for all the suffering you both went through.” 

“You have other children and you can always have more children.”

Why does that not help me to feel one iota better? Shall I cut off one of your fingers? Will that hurt? That is how this feels. You might have other fingers to compensate, but it still hurts and it’s still missing! My child was totally unique, and there is no other human being on this planet that could replace him. Don’t imagine for one minute that I haven’t been looking. Everywhere I go for the rest of my life, I am searching out five-year-old freckled boys to see if there could be one with a resemblance to him. Not everyone can have more children! To say this is a huge assumption and that causes even more pain for anyone who has lost a child, wants another child and cannot have other children for whatever reason. 

“There will be something good that will come out of his death.”

I don’t care about anything now but alleviating my own pain. Nothing can possibly come out of my son’s death except this god-awful pain that has wrecked my life and those around me. Anyway, if anything did come out of it, I would trade it in an instant if I could. 

Don’t worry, time will heal.”

Time is excruciating when I am in so much pain. It does not feel possible that healing could ever take place at this moment. Do I really care that time has helped others? I don’t care about anyone else right now. All I can see is that I am in unbelievable pain. I don’t believe those words will ever be true for me. That is not helpful at all! 

And lastly: “Why don’t you take medication? You would definitely feel so much better.”

How can you say that to me? I just finished telling you that I’ve hated how I’ve felt on medication. I cannot focus well enough to work and hate being in a “haze” on top of my pain. I want to talk about my pain and to grieve. I don’t want drugs! Time spent grieving is time moving forward. I want to feel my grief instead of avoiding it. 

Now if I’ve left everyone baffled as to what they could say that’s helpful for someone grieving, here is another list: 

“Please know that I am here for you. Feel free to talk about anything at all. I would love for you to share anything you remember about what you have lost. I want to know more about him.” 

“I miss him/her so much! I want to share some memories I have about him or her”. Say their name. Sharing memories allows for their loved one to live on in a profound way. 

“I wish I knew what to say that would make you feel better.” 

“I am at a total loss of words. I don’t know what to say right now. Nothing is adequate. “Just know how much I care!” 

“Please let me know if there is anything at all I can do.” 

“I am so sorry for your loss!” 

Most holidays pose a particular challenge to anyone who is grieving. There are Anniversaries of the Heart, which are the birthdays and death days. And then there are holidays. I have collected many other people’s grief stories. For my friend, Lori, both of her “Anniversaries of the Heart” are within weeks of each other. Her young son was born in November. He was three when he dropped dead from an unknown, heart defect in her living room. He was chasing his older brother around a coffee table. His death was a few days before Thanksgiving. For the rest of Lori’s life, she will never have anything remotely resembling a traditional Thanksgiving celebration again. 

I know a couple whose daughter died during the first week of January. Every New Year’s celebration brings the reminder that the New Year to celebrate does not include their beloved daughter. 

Recently, I found out that someone I hadn’t seen for a while lost her adult son in December. Christmas will forever be marked for her. Now it is reaching the six-month mark and that is an extremely difficult time during bereavement. I sent her a message today. I told her I would be thinking of her on this first Mother’s Day without her son. There is a great deal of suffering surrounding holidays like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. 

During holidays, the loneliness and anguish of grief is intensified with the memories of past holidays filled with joy, rather than excruciating sadness. On holidays, if you know someone who is suffering because they lost someone whom they loved, swallow the fear and call them. If they are angry, listen. If they are silent, stay close. If they are sad, allow it. Don’t feel your purpose is to remind them life goes on. They know that. Unfortunately, it is going on around them! 

Your presence can mean so much. And if you are rejected, don’t take it personally. Don’t give up either. Nothing is lost by reaching out to someone you care about who is grieving. Let them know that you are thinking of them and are sad about their loss. The acknowledgement of grief is usually appreciated when it is done in a caring manner. Pretending it isn’t there certainly doesn’t make it go away.

When I was grieving, I was fortunate that I had friends who stayed close to me despite their own discomfort. I knew my family and many loving friends desperately wished my pain could be alleviated. I was remote and inconsolable for a very, very long time. It really did help to know that I had friends and family hoping I’d feel better. Having hope was a reason for me to go on living. And it is precisely what has inspired me to share my story.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. 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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I COULDN’T SAVE MY OWN CHILD; WHAT WILL SAVE ME?

I always felt like Jason was a wise old man, even though he died when he was five.

I always felt like Jason was a wise old man, even though he died when he was five.

When I started writing this morning, I realized that my daily musings are not nearly as relevant to me as what I just wrote about Jason. It is hard to follow that! I am glad that I was able to play tennis this morning. I feel as if I have bleeding scars reopened on my heart.

Now that the story about Jason is “up and out” of me, I thought I could let truly lit go! However, more and more trauma is still erupting from me.

It was when I started thinking about the experience when my mom was in the hospital that I had another trauma moment. I felt a stab of pain when I thought about what we both endured while she was in ICU for two months on a respirator.

It led me right back again to Jason. One of the sadder aspects to losing a child is the feeling that as a parent we have failed.

We have failed because we “could not save our child!”

Honestly, I believe this is something primal that has been programmed into a parents’ very psyche! A parent is supposed to have all the answers. Parents are responsible for their child (even an adopted child), and it is their job to keep their child alive!

When I shared my story about Jason, I mentioned how unsure I was about ever having children. I started out as a mom with no experience what-so-ever with babies. I was nervous and completely inexperienced.

Then, I reached the height of arrogance. I felt like I had actually saved my son from death so many times! I had kept him alive and with my “expertise,” and I would continue to do so! That might have had some truth, but in the end it made no difference!

I remember searching for an answer later on, after Jason had died. I asked our beloved cardiologist. He said, “Jason’s heart just stopped.”

That was it. He continued, “There is no answer for why his heart stopped. We don’t really know why a heart stops or even starts. It’s a mystery.”

It was later on, when I met so many bereaved parents that I realized the precariousness of life. I didn’t have to look for a surgeon’s mistake, or even my own guilt that something I could have done differently might have allowed my child to live. What about . . .

The little boy that choked on a microwave pancake and died? How did those parents go on?

Or, the child that “half-drowned,” and lived on in a state of vegetation for such a long time? What about the girl who suffered and died a slow death from a brain tumor?

Or, the teenage girl who was horribly murdered. The child who was a drug user, and committed suicide.

Worse yet, the teenage boy who killed himself with a shotgun in front of his own father! I could add at least a thousand more to this list!

There are no answers for me, only more questions. Throw your story out there, and grab it right back! Just writing this causes me unbelievable anguish! I heard parents tell all of those above stories!

When I was the child – it seems so long ago!

Once again, I need to go back to my daily ordeal with my 84-year-old mother.

There I was a few months ago taking on the responsibility to keep my mother going. My father kept telling me, “You are the one keeping your mother alive!”

I did know that if I weren’t there, she would not continue her brave “fight to the finish.” That much was true for me. She was on the respirator, and I was the only one there for her. My mom was having so much difficulty being weaned from that respirator. She was being given many drugs that were not at all helpful. She was fighting pneumonia, and it felt to me that she might never get off that respirator.

A tracheotomy was done, so now she was awake. She could not talk, and she had an uncomfortable nasal tube for feeding. She was on constant restraints because she was uncooperative and pulling everything out. She was totally aware at times of her awful predicament! Each day a weaning attempt was made. And each day it was halted due to my mother’s extreme, blood pressure fluctuations.

One night, I went onto my computer and researched “fluctuating blood pressure.” Something stood out to me. There was a small paragraph that mentioned tumors on the adrenal glands could cause blood pressure fluctuations. I remembered that five years earlier my mother had a scan and I was told she had some small, harmless tumors on her adrenal glands.

I called her doctor to mention that. He had wondered about it also, and he prescribed a medication to counter the effect from those possible tumors. The day after she took that new medication, Aldacton, her blood pressure stabilized. She began to come off the respirator for longer and longer periods.

I remember how I felt so useful and so hopeful. I was elated that my mother had turned a corner. And then within a flash of those thoughts, I was literally “flat on the floor” pounding it with anguish. I wanted to pull out every single hair on my head!

Here I was – super genius and devoted daughter, and I couldn’t save my own son!

My mom and I while she had a trach tube.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. 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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BESIDE ME ALWAYS – PART 1

“I am dreaming I will find a special voice for my song, and then have it professionally recorded. I am also dreaming it will be heard by many people. It feels good to dream. It feels good to simply feel good again!”
Early performance
Links to more stories about this song:
 

BESIDE ME ALWAYS”

Copyright 2015 by Judy Unger


I’ll search the shrouded darkness

Wanting you and nothing less

Seems my whole life I’ve waited

In darkness that was fated

I’ll live within my broken heart

Littered with your unfinished start

All the memories leave me haunted

You’re all I’ve ever wanted

And when my tears are flowing

And I don’t know where I’m going

I feel your love, then you’re beside me always

In the breeze that’s blowing

You surround me in a breeze that’s blowing

I know that I will still exist

longing for the soul I’ve kissed

I dream of you in a distant sky

the breeze it comforts while I cry

I know you’d tell me, “When your tears are flowing

And you’re not sure where you’re going

Just feel my love, I’m beside you always

In the breeze that’s blowing, I’ll surround you

in the breeze that’s blowing; that’s blowing”

Jason with Freckles

I hardly played my guitar for over 30 years. I stopped when I was married at the age of 21 and embraced music again when I turned fifty. But occasionally I did play – Music was something I wanted to share with my children. After Jason died, it was very difficult for me to sing. I forced myself and my other children probably thought that Puff the Magic Dragon was the only song I remembered how to play.

There was a special song that would call out to me. Every few years, when it was quiet and I was alone, I’d try to see if I could still remember how to play “Beside Me Always,” As I fingered the beautiful chords, tears would stream down my face. It was because it brought Jason back to me.

I deeply treasured when I shared my song with other bereaved parents. For a few years after Jason’s death, I played “Beside Me Always” at the December holiday meeting of Compassionate Friends. I sang it in the brisk night air under the stars while surrounded by bereaved parents holding hands in a circle.

I had another meaningful occasion where I played my song. When a close friend of mine was dying, she asked me if I could speak at her service. I spoke and then I sang “Beside Me Always” because it felt like a beautiful way to honor her.

It’s ironic that this song had a completely different meaning when I wrote as a young girl of 17. At that time, I felt discouraged about love because I had just broken up with a boyfriend. I wanted to remember him with the breeze and the love we once had. He never knew about the song and I hardly remember him anymore.

When Jason died in 1992, I wanted to write something to read at his funeral. I remembered that I had song lyrics that expressed loss. Then suddenly, “Beside Me Always” popped into my mind.

The concept of the breeze comforting me, literally “blew me” away. It was a beautiful theme, but first I needed to change a few words. I came up with revised lyrics and softly spoke them into a tape recorder. I was not up to speaking aloud at my son’s funeral. What a difference revising those lyrics made; all these years later, this song still can easily bring tears to my eyes.

 BESIDE ME ALWAYS”

ORIGINAL LYRICS

Copyright 1980 by Judy Unger


I searched through shrouded darkness

Wanting more, but finding less

Seems my whole life I’ve waited

In darkness that I’ve hated

I lived amidst broken hearts

Littered with unfinished starts

Empty dreams had me haunted

I didn’t know what I wanted

But when my tears are flowing

And I don’t know where I’m going

I think of you and you’re beside me always

In the breeze that’s blowing

You surround me in a breeze that’s blowing

I thought that I could just exist

without your love, but now you’re missed

And I realize how I did care,

and now you’re no longer there

You used to tell me, “When your tears are flowing

And you don’t know where you’re going

Just think of me, and I’m beside you always

In the breeze that’s blowing, I’ll surround you

in a breeze that’s blowing; that’s blowing”

Judy, Jason & guitars

In 2010, when I enthusiastically began to play my guitar again, I could barely sing at all or hold a note. But I was determined to remember all of my songs. There were at least 30 of them and I was lucky I had an old cassette with 20 songs recorded in 1980.

It was courageous, but the first song I shared on my blog was the 1980 recording of “Beside Me Always.”

BESIDE ME ALWAYS 1980 recording-Copyright 2015 by Judy Unger

I wrote the following words when I posted it:

“I am dreaming I will find a special voice for my song, and then have it professionally recorded. I am also dreaming it will be heard by many people.”

At that time, I certainly had no idea that the special voice I would find for my song would be my own!

Finding my voice was definitely a journey. I opened up through writing and music, and suddenly I began to feel joyful. After so many years of being a caregiver, I had finally begun to take care of myself. My life became exciting because I made the decision to pursue things that brought me excitement. I felt like a different person and so much younger.

Because I wanted to improve as a performer, I searched for places where I could play. I found a wonderful open-mic venue named Kulak’s Woodshed, where singers could be videotaped and put on a Webcast. At one of my first performances, I played “Beside Me Always.” I strummed the chorus and sang the high notes loudly just like I did when I was 19.

It wasn’t long, before I realized my song needed to be transposed into a lower key. I had always been reluctant to change any of my song’s chords, but once I overcame that, I discovered the new key had a haunting quality. The music conveyed so much more aching sadness than before. The process of reinventing the guitar parts for my song, just added to my enthusiasm about music in my life. I was a new person, a new singer and now a new guitarist.

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The soft caress of a breeze can evoke many feelings for me. I remember Jason. And sometimes, I imagine that God is touching me.

At the beginning of this story, I shared how I revised the lyrics to Beside Me Always. But I didn’t really change the chorus lyrics very much. It was because they created a powerful image for me. I pictured myself standing near Jason’s grave on a grassy hill. I was crying and the breeze comforted me while my “tears were flowing.”

But there actually was one revision and it was only to the last chorus. Because of that change, my song became even more meaningful for me. It was a revelation. With the words, “I know you’d tell me,” the conversation was switched. I wasn’t speaking to Jason about my tears. Instead, I was being spoken to and reassured.

From the distant sky came my understanding that God and Jason did not want me to be sad.

Callig beside me always© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. 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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