myjourneysinsight

EMAIL AS A FORM OF THERAPY

Posted on February 24, 2010 by Judy

A picture of Joni and I on vacation. We stayed at a ranch outside of Las Vegas.

I am not a “professional” writer. I graduated college with an art degree. This whole, writing process is both amazing and baffling to me, as I am finding myself overcome with ideas. My head is spinning about what an amazing opportunity it has become to write about what has been gone on in my life! There is frustration there, because I am still a caregiver for a lot of people, and writing is a luxury for me.

All of my writing began recently through emails to my old friends whom I’ve seen little of for the past thirty years. During my mom’s illness, I began to use email as a form of therapy; to reconnect with all the wonderful friends I’ve managed to stay in touch with through the years. Even though I never shared with them many of my trials, I am finding that I have swung now in a totally “different and new” direction.

Suddenly, I have put my life out there for anyone and everyone to read. Someone did ask me how it is that I could do this. That’s a good question, and I haven’t found a good answer for that – except that for right now it is “working for me!”

I haven’t mentioned much about my parents and their “care.” Needless to say, it should suffice to say that they both call me at least twice a day or more. Sometimes when I’m on the phone with one, the other will call – such a choice! Which parent can I satisfy? They both need me so much, and I love them.

When I bemoan the lack of illustration assignments, I always realize there is never any time for me to work again – I have plenty to do. When I feel a little “spoiled” that I still have my housekeeper/wife, Rosa, I realize that she is only working part-time. She never has time to clean my house, and I am responsible for shopping for five, hungry people in my home. I don’t want to mention how many times a week I am shopping at Costco, Target, Trader Joes, and supermarkets.

From left to right – Joni, me, and her sister, Shari.

Email correspondence to share:

On Feb 23, 2010, Joni wrote:

Did you find the Israel trip interesting as a possibility? If you did or could go, fill out the application as soon as possible, it will fill up fast.

Love, Joni

Hi Jone,

To make a long story short, I could not travel without Michael, yet. He has been waiting for us to have that chance once it was actually feasible. I say feasible, but even I don’t know what that means. I guess if I had a million dollars it would be! I think it is more about the kids and more stability. They still need me so much, even though their mom is sitting at her computer all the time lately.

I just don’t have the desire to go, knowing how hurt he would be. I can do a weekend thing, but not two weeks. That being said, it was so tremendous of you to think of me for this opportunity.

Love, Jude

Ps. Here’s another pic to share. Notice how pretty you are and you have that great figure I was always so jealous of. And look at me, the “Tomboy.” No wonder I liked bugs and lizards! I got my period late and never had much of a waistline compared to you! And your sister, Shari, has that wild, curly hair and she’s so tiny. That’s how I always remember her. And whoever took the picture, is casting their shadow!

Love you, Jude

Ps. we’ve had lunch how many times in the last 30 years? Five?

Joni and I at her Bat Mitzvah. She became very religious later on in her life, due in part to my mom’s influence.

I corresponded yesterday with a neighborhood friend that I used to play with until I was ten years old! His name is Steve.

He and his family moved away and I have not seen him in forty years. When my mother and father were living with me for a year, I made it a point to take my mom out to see his mother, Marilyn and another neighbor. When my mom was ill, I sent updates to Marilyn.

Marilyn shared my emails with Steve. Steve happens to know a lot about music and recording music.

On Feb 23, 2010, Judy wrote:

Hi Steve,

I am seriously thinking of sending you my old cassette to see if you can re-record it digitally. I am in the process of moving forward to perhaps having someone else sing and record my songs – AS IS! I don’t want to change them. Thanks again for being so helpful, and for sharing with your mom.

Hi Judy,

I read an email where you mentioned you had an old, cassette tape. I had a good cassette deck but it’s been sitting under my bed for years. I just dug it out and cleaned out all the dust out of it. I’ll try and power it up and see if I can get it all connected to where I could record to the computer.

Steve

Steve, You’re an angel! This cassette is about all that I have to remember my songs and my prior ability when I was “in practice.” I have another cassette that has just one or two songs interspersed with dialog. I’ll send that, too, although it is slightly embarrassing.

I am very excited if you’re able to make my voice sound less “screechy.” I doubt that is possible, but if it sounds better – perhaps I can share it with a future singer that I can have do an excellent recording. This is wonderful! Thank you!

Once again, thank you for your involvement. It’s been such a pleasure reconnecting with you and your mom after 40 years.

Judy

On Feb 23, 2010, Marilyn wrote:

Judy,

Your artwork is truly fantastic.

I so hope that Steve can help you in some way. I will tell you that with whatever he does he is a perfectionist.

Love, Marilyn

Steven and I at our preschool graduation. Marilyn and my mom are behind us.

© 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.

Tagged Daily Life, Friendship, Music, Ordinary Life, writing | 2 Comments

NO INKLING OF A DISINGENUOUS TONE

Posted on February 22, 2010 by Judy

My childhood friend, Joni, went on many family vacations with me. In this picture, we are horsebackriding in Palm Springs.

I loved to write when I was very young. Later on, I preferred art and music.

My sixth grade teacher wrote in my yearbook, “Please send me an autographed copy of your first book.” I actually did publish a book of mazes in the eighth grade. I tried to contact this teacher, but she was no longer at the elementary school anymore. I always wish I could have shared that with her.

I think staying in touch with special teachers throughout my life has helped me very much.

It is truly amazing how this recent ability of mine to open up and write happened. I was, and still am just a normal person. Although my challenges have been there, trust me – I know that I am not alone with challenges or even heartache. Along my life journey, I have accumulated so many friends with stories that go along with them. Always, even during bereavement, everyone seems to prefer to “take back their own stuff” when given a choice.

I have never written a blog, or shared so much in my entire life. Recently, while my mom was in intensive care for two months, I found that writing the updates about her became therapeutic simply because I received the most incredible responses from friends that I’ve kept in touch with all these years. I’m not even sure why I started sending them the updates, except that many of my friends have or had older parents and could relate to what was happening to me.

For so long I carried on through so many difficult situations, and neglected my connections to other people in this world. I had little time or desire, and didn’t realize how sad I was. Although I stayed connected to my “old friends,” I never really wrote or called much. Unless you really share, there cannot be closeness.

Therefore, with my friends’ permission I am going to reply to some recent, special emails here. All this sharing has been the thrill of a lifetime for someone like me.

Childhood Friends – since we were toddlers.

Message from my Childhood Friend, Joni:

On February 21, 2010 Joni wrote:

Hi Judy,

I wanted you to know I just read your entire blog in one sitting. Here I thought I knew what was going on with your kids, but really found myself amazed at what you have accomplished and lived through. You really were strong for them. I know you had to be, but still so much self-sacrifice and turmoil saturated your existence with them and you never took a vacation.

I am glad your family has a new, silver car. You deserve that and much more.

I am going to email you an application for a trip to Israel that is subsidized next October for 9 days. If you qualify, the cost is $699, plus airfare to New York. I have never been and my daughter found this opportunity. I would love for you and I to go together!

You’re my good friend and I am thankful I had something to offer you last Thursday. I love your songs, your playing, and your singing. You have always been my sunshine and continue to be.

All my love, Joni

Hi Joni,

I read your message early this morning. It brought out feelings of “It’s my turn to get a life!”

It was a good thing for me to dream, however, there is a lot of reality here. I hardly ever mention Michael, I know. I’ll have been married for thirty years (this year), and he has been the one bemoaning our lack of travel and adventure.

Reading my blog, I’m sure you can see why. As much as I could easily enjoy a trip such as this, it would be such a stab to his heart for me to travel like this alone. He would want to be there with me, especially for a “first time.” I don’t know if you knew this, but my mother was invited to Israel by her brother when she was 45, I think. It was actually the very first time she had ever flown on an airplane. That was the trip of a lifetime for her and my father.

Before I was married, I also had never been on an airplane! Michael arranged for us to go on a plane flight (a four-seater) to Santa Barbara. It was cool, although I was pretty airsick. I do hope I’ll have a chance to experience some travels – I guess I’d better find a way to make money. Unfortunately, I need to go find a job, and stop playing tennis, guitar, and writing. I think instead, I’ll continue my creative pursuits with little income and take vacations in my head!

As much as Michael wishes I brought in the income that I used to, he is amused at all this writing I am doing and supportive. He has always encouraged my creative pursuits, for which I am grateful. He is still reminding me how he begged me to do email 15 years ago; and I wasn’t ready for at least five years after that!

Love, Judy

Shirley (my mom), Judy, Joni in front.

Message from my college art teacher, Nancy:

On Feb 20, 2010, Nancy wrote:

Hi Judy!

What a nice surprise to receive your voice message today!  Thank you for the birthday wish, Judy!  Today is a wonderful day and I am doing what I always do, enjoying it!  At the moment, I am back on my computer, drawing…my fav thing to do.

I have been learning sooo much from the series of emails you have been sending and receiving from your friends. I talked about them yesterday with my therapist.  I am amazed at your support group, something I have never understood/had/wanted/believed existed/etc….. A result of my own damaged past…. 

I continue to try to find some inkling of a disingenuous tone from any of the correspondence between you and your friends. Well, I just cannot find it! Trusting and feeling cared for have always been a HUGE issue with me. The sincerity and support I see between all of you is incredibly baffling and mysterious and mind-boggling. So, as I read your emails, I am fascinated to be an observer and see the so many different lessons from so many different angles.

Yes, Judy, you have had a full plate. I never realized all the things you have had to deal with through the years, especially with your children.  I knew some of it, edges, but not very much. Whew!!!!  All I can say is you are coming through smelling like a rose!!!

Lots of love and kisses,  Nan XXX

It’s hard to write anything after reading these beautiful messages that I’ve received in just one day. I appreciate my dear friends that have allowed me to share their messages.

Why do I have a picture of a key for the new car? (A Honda CRV-EX – Michael will mostly drive it). Well, it has a lot to do with “being fifty” now. Today when I planned to drive this intoxicating, new car, I felt very competent to adjust everything and “take off.”

However, I sat in the garage for about ten minutes attempting to start the car with the key. It wasn’t working, and I finally had to admit that buckling and unbuckling the seatbelt, opening and closing the door, and looking for another keyhole didn’t help. I used my cell-phone to call Michael upstairs in the house and he said that the key should work. Then I looked at the key closely and realized it still had a plastic sleeve on it. You can clearly see it in the photo, but obviously I’m going to have to start wearing reading glasses around my neck soon. (Just like my mother, OY!)

Tagged childhood friendship, Daily Life, Friendship, Ordinary Life | Leave a comment

GET A GRIP

Posted on February 21, 2010 by Judy

Just some of my friends from my 50th birthday party last year.

I didn’t care for my title Tennis – “The thread in the fabric of my life,” once my daughter informed me that “fabric of your life” is already a slogan in use by a cotton company. Oops! It felt so original, but isn’t that how it goes sometimes? I must have heard that before, and it stuck in my subconscious. I’ve learned a lot about that from hypnotherapy!

Since I love puns, here are my alternative titles for any more posts related to tennis:

“SHUTTING UP ALL THE RACQUET” (in my head and house)

“A SWINGER – SOMETHING NEW & DIFFERENT”

“GET A HANDLE ON IT”

“A SMASHING SUCCESS STORY”

“LOOK WHAT’S OVERHEAD – IT’S A HIT!”

“HEARTSTRINGS, GUITAR STRINGS, & TENNIS STRINGS!” (I love this one)

“HITS IN THE MAKING – SONGS & TENNIS”

“A SLICE OF LIFE – IN TENNIS & ART” (Have an orange slice illustration there)

“A NEW SPIN ON LIFE, RECORDS, & TENNIS”

“GET A GRIP!”

PART THREE

“I’ve met so many different, interesting, and amazing women”

I could write so much about how tennis has kept my sanity. However, it really began to be clearer to me when I had children. When my first child, Jason, was born in 1987 with a severe, congenital heart defect there were no words to explain my devastation. I had a lousy pregnancy with morning sickness that wasn’t about vomiting. Instead, I kept eating to prevent that horrible feeling I had. I am able to admit that I gained one hundred pounds in my first pregnancy. Since I’ve been writing about tennis, imagine the effect of all that weight on my tennis game!

Jason lived for five years, but I remember clearly that after he died there was a tennis game the day after his funeral. Everyone was quiet, and of course, we all didn’t say much – what else was I supposed to do? Mourning at home vs. playing tennis wasn’t a difficult choice.

The first years of bereavement were numb, but I also remember that I would always cry while driving in the car. It was the most perfect place to cry. Since I often drove to tennis games, I was amazed at how I would sob as I drove, park my car, and then get out to play.

In all areas of my life besides tennis, I came to grips with the feelings of being a bereaved parent. In the beginning it was hard to hear my tennis friends worrying about trivial nonsense. Then, sometimes it became quite hard not to feel pangs about the achievements of children that did not have “issues” like mine had.

Worse yet, was hearing about all beautiful jewelry that my tennis friends received from their husbands. My guy hasn’t bought me any jewelry, though I could always go out and buy some for myself if I wanted it badly enough.

However, because I have always taken a lot of pride in my artistic endeavors, I was able to deflect many of those pangs.

“Grateful for the two-hour break”

Outside of tennis and my old friends, I surrounded myself with many people that had circumstances far worse than mine. I ran the Compassionate Friends (Bereaved Parents and Siblings) support group for several years, and later on became involved in my “Special Mom’s” support group. In those places I was able to feel connected through the sadness, where my feelings were understood.

However, I was always grateful for the two-hour break I had while playing tennis. I played tennis on average two times a week, and I met so many different, interesting, and amazing women. Most of my tennis friends know it has been the key to my survival!

Last year, when I had my fiftieth birthday approaching I was definitely in my “zombie place.” It felt sad to me that my life had been so challenging and I didn’t feel like this milestone was any celebration, for sure.

One day, I verbalized these feelings to a few of my tennis friends that I’ve known for many the years. I say “that I’ve known for many years,” but the truth was that we know mostly each other’s tennis games well and not a whole lot more.

I can share that my “opening up,” resulted in a wonderful party made in honor of my fiftieth birthday. Tennis friends from the last twenty years or so surrounded me; some no longer were even playing tennis anymore.

It’s important for me to also share that outside of our doubles games, I never socialized much because I always had to get home to illustrate or deal with my childrens’ issues.

It was such a perfect birthday; to be surrounded by such a fabulous gathering of wonderful woman. We all knew each other, but hardly recognized each other with makeup on out of our tennis clothes!

PART FOUR

“I had so many revelations today”

It was a joyous day! I woke up early to “fill in” for a 10:30 a.m. tennis game at a well-known country club this morning.

Usually, I try to avoid playing two days in a row. Yesterday I played in a workshop, and I also have a game scheduled for tomorrow. That would make it three days of playing tennis in a row!

But I’ve been looking at things as “new and different” these days. I’ve dropped thirteen pounds. The tennis lessons I’ve recently begun to take have definitely helped me improve. Lastly, because the sun was shining instead of the rain that had been predicted . . . well, why not?

This woman that called used to play with me fairly regularly for at least two to three years, once or twice a week. This friend that called me probably was probably a little exasperated with me the last time we played. I am not known as a “quick runner,” and that’s saying it lightly. I was eager to show her my improvement!

I’m still about fifty pounds overweight, though I am athletic. I rely on knocking the tennis ball about 100 miles an hour, hoping that it will not come back to me! My best shots are usually returning and serving, because I don’t have to run for those.

Carrying the extra weight, plus having arthritis in my toes has been frustrating. However, it is totally overcome by the outrageous freedom and release of stress achieved for me by hitting something as hard as possible.

All of my friends are quite aware of the danger, and usually stay back when I am returning serve for that reason.

I had so many revelations today, besides having so much joy while playing. I realized how much more open I’ve become!

One of the other players in the game was a woman I had played with on a tennis team about 18 years ago.

Like many of the fascinating people I have met through tennis, this woman was a pediatric gastroenterologist. She remembered me well, because I used to discuss things with her about Jason (my deceased son). Jason vomited most of his food, and he had seen a gastroenterologist on many occasions. As I have learned to do, picking someone’s brain is always useful. So this day began with another moment of reconnecting.

When she asked me, “How are your kids?” I shared with her that Jason had died.

The friend that invited me, that I’ve played tennis with every week for several years did not know I ever had a child that died!

So that’s why I always called myself a “poster child” for bereaved parents! She never even heard me mention it. For the last ten of my eighteen years of bereavement, I have been so proud of the way that I’ve “moved on.”

Still, I was amazed that this major, life-shaping event that had changed me was never revealed to someone that had known me for a few years.

After our wonderful tennis game, I shared my experience with my 84-year-old mother on a respirator for two months. When I finished my sharing, I truly felt like I was a participant in a Hallmark movie. It couldn’t possibly be real; that I had come through this major stressor in my life. I was so happy that the sun was shining and I was healthy enough to play tennis.

FIFTIETH PARTY BIRTHDAY SPEECH – OCTOBER 11, 2009

There was no avoiding the depression I was feeling about my approaching fiftieth birthday. I heard about all kinds of ideas to celebrate, and attended a few of my old friend’s parties. None of my old friends knew each other, and I didn’t feel like putting them all in a room together. I couldn’t afford a trip, a piece of expensive jewelry, a big bash, or anything else that might have alleviated my sadness.

Why was I sad about turning 50? I’m sure you all understand those feelings about the years accelerating as we get older, and certainly, our bodies aren’t want they used to be. However, at this moment I totally appreciate how fortunate I am today.

I don’t even know how to begin to thank Lauren for her idea, and Janet for hosting and inviting all of you. I am in awe of everyone coming here and contributing to my party. You have not only shared with me your delicious food, but your love as well!

I can only tell you how appreciative I am for your support all these years. Playing tennis with you represented the place where I was able to become rejuvenated and have my stress lifted for those two hours.

All of you have shared with me so much, even if it has been awhile since we’ve played. There is nothing in the world that could be more perfect for me than this. My friends who shared with me the only moments in my life where I could “let it out” surround me!

During the darker times, I was so sad that I would cry in my car driving to the tennis court. I would wipe my tears away, and get out of my car to play with you, hoping no one knew that I had just been sobbing.

I could always count on being with wonderful woman where I could be myself. I apologize to any of you that I smashed a ball into. I definitely took chances; hitting way too close to those of you at the net. I wasn’t aiming at your face, but I certainly could have played more crosscourt shots, which would have been safer for everyone.

Also lately, I have been saying some very bad words (is my family gone?). So I apologize for that, too; it must be part of the freedom of turning 50. But it’s so much fun!

Thank you again for making my fiftieth birthday something I will never forget. I am so honored by this amazing turnout of friends, and I’m thrilled for all of us to be together outside of the tennis court.

My party was at Janet’s home, and she is on the right. She is a screenwriter, and has been very supportive of me.

Tagged Humor, Tennis | 9 Comments

TENNIS – THE THREAD IN THE FABRIC OF MY LIFE

Posted on February 21, 2010 by Judy

1997 USTA Sectionals Northridge Tennis Club Team.

Eleanor Harbula was my first tennis teacher in Sylmar. I am also listed in this article. This is amazing; the lady I played in the article was named Leah and she was the tennis instructor at the park for my children. I didn’t realize the connection until I scanned this article!

Sympathy card from my first tennis teacher, Ellie.

PART ONE

“The change began because of my isolation”

This title should actually be, “Tennis is the thread in the fabric of my adult life.” I was married at the age of 21, and I experienced a huge change in my life. Close friends, musical joy, and the excitement that a wedding can bring had surrounded me. The change began due to the isolation of working alone at home. I was pursuing an illustration career from the ground up. I was definitely not interested in having any children to burden myself with, and although that might have left me with a feeling of “freedom,” I was extremely dedicated and responsible about my work. That was also a significant change from living at home with my parents, and never being on my own until I was married.

I became depressed when I was 23, and it was my own mother that encouraged me to find some other interests. She suggested tennis as a way for me to get myself out of the house. I was living in Sylmar at the time, and had seen an ad for lessons at a public park. I called the instructor, whose name was Ellie and took lessons for a while. Then I played after my lessons at the park where I started meeting lots of tennis players.

I played every weekend, and while I was there I met a wonderful Romanian couple that joined me. We had so many wonderful games, and we became good friends. My husband tried to play, but didn’t seem to enjoy it – I was probably far too competitive for him.

The main thing was that my loneliness subsided and my friendship with the Romanian family continued even after I moved away from Sylmar. Occasionally, I would still drive out to play with Magda and Mat, my Romanian friends. I still can remember the day when I played with Magda and her leg unexplainably became numb. Her later diagnosis with MS was devastating, and it was hard for me to understand how someone that has had such a difficult life could still be so positive. Her stories of what she lived through while in Romania were chilling. We’ve only seen each other once in the last five years, but her whole family is so special to me, and mine to hers. She began using a computer a long time before I did and I know it has certainly kept us connected.

When I moved to Granada Hills from Sylmar, I drove to play quite often at a facility named “The Racquet Center.” There was a drop in “round robin” that I enjoyed regularly. I met a whole, new group of friends. One in particular left her mark on me. Her name was Linda. Linda was on a USTA team that I was on, and became very ill suddenly. She was diagnosed with Stage 4 Ovarian cancer.

She bravely went through treatments, lost her hair, but continued to play tennis through it all. I believe she lived about eight years after her initial diagnosis. She had many problems with her teenage son, and confided so much in me. I can still hear her voice when I play sometimes; she used to say, “Burn that serve in!”

Linda was very caring toward me when Jason died. Her terminal stage was very unsettling for me, as I had never had anyone close to me going through the dying process other than Jason. Toward the end she was in a lot of pain, and her yellow pallor from jaundice was something I can never forget.

I saw her the day before she died, when no one was “supposed to visit.” I was discouraged from visiting, and told she was completely “out of it.” I went in to see her anyway, and she opened her eyes and smiled at me. I told her I’d look out for her mom, because I knew what it was like to be a bereaved parent. Linda smiled, nodded at me, and said, “thank you.” After that, I called her mother every year on Linda’s birthday, death anniversary, and on Mother’s Day. I did that for almost fifteen years, until one day the phone number had been changed. I still wonder where her mother moved. It gave Linda’s mother great pleasure to share with me that Linda’s son went on to become a school teacher. Linda had so much stress to contend with, between her son and her illness. It was too bad she didn’t live to know that her son had “straightened out.” She knew in her heart that he acted out due to her illness.

I played one of my original songs at Linda’s funeral. I was so honored to be able to do that. A week after her death, her husband called me and asked if I would like her tennis clothes, or any of her clothes. I brought a huge trash bag and filled it up; I shared some clothes with another one of Linda’s friends. I also took a pair of shoes, tennis undies, and the outfit Linda had worn for her son’s Bar Mitzvah. I wore the shoes until the soles fell off. I still wear some of her things, and I think about her often when I play. Below is a link to a later story that I wrote about Linda:

WHEN YOU’VE LEFT, YOU’LL STILL BE WITH ME

Revlon Run/Walk 1996 in Memory of Linda.

Sympathy Card from Linda. Clicking on this makes it larger.

PART TWO

“In grief, we have both opened up doors within our heart.”

These four parts about tennis alternate between the past and the present. If Part 1 was about when my love for tennis started, then Part 2 is a logical transition to what transpired during the past month with my very first “tennis friend.”

Due to her MS, Magda last played tennis probably seventeen years ago. I visited Magda, her husband, Mat, and her stepson, wife, and grandson in Palmdale a few years ago. Her stepson used to assist my husband, Mike, when he was self-employed for a brief period.

Before my mom’s illness, we did have occasional email updates to each other, but not too often. Mostly, I have always been sad about the progression of her illness. We never lost touch from our tennis playing days back when I was 24!

Recently, when my mom was seriously ill, I shared updates about my mom’s condition with Magda. Her message came to me as a result of sharing pictures of my dead child. That happened because my trauma was reignited when my mother was very ill.

On Feb 1, 2010, Magda wrote:

JUDY IT IS A PLEASURE TO SEE ALL THE PICTURES AND THANK YOU FOR SHARING …JUDY WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR 23-24 YEARS AND I LIKED YOU FROM THE FIRST MINUTE …YOU DIDN’T CARE ABOUT MY FOREIGN ACCENT AND POOR ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

YOU INVITED ME TO THE BABY SHOWER, MY FIRST ONE EVER AND THE ONLY ONE….JASON, MY LITTLE ANGEL WAS BORN AND I REMEMBER THE DIFFICULT TIME YOU HAD FEEDING HIM…I WAS BABY SAT HIM ONCE.

I REMEMBER HIS LAST BIRTHDAY IN GRANADA HILLS …AND THE WORST PHONE CALL…JASON!!!!.. HE WAS SO BRAVE BEFORE HIS SURGERY! I COULD NOT STOP CRYING FOR A LONG TIME…AND NOW I HAVE TEARS WHEN I REMEMBER THAT MOMENT…I HEAR HIS SWEET VOICE IN MY EARS, AS I HAVE FOR YEARS…AND I CAN STILL SEE HIS ANGEL FACE WITH FRECKLES …I ATTENDED THE FUNERAL AND LISTENED TO YOUR RECORDED VOICE, BUT WATCHING THE LITTLE CASKET I CRIED NON STOP …I LEFT… I COULD NOT WATCH THE LAST PART…

I DON’T KNOW WHY ALL OF THIS CAME TO MY MIND…I LOST A SON 10 DAYS AFTER HIS BIRTH (premature) IN THE HOSPITAL THEY NEVER LET ME TO HOLD HIM…. I COULDN’T TALK WITH ANYBODY AND I JUST PRAYED TO GOD TO HELP ME AND HE DID. AND FROM THAT TIME I ALWAYS ASK HIM FOR HELP… SO MAYBE THIS IS A REASON I AM SO SENSITIVE AND I LOVE THE KIDS SO MUCH…YOU ARE A WONDERFUL MOM AND GOD GAVE YOU THESE 3 SPECIAL KIDS…

JUDY …IN JASON’S PICTURE FROM THE HOSPITAL, HE WAS STILL SMILING TO HIS MOM …WITH ALL THE TUBES ON HIS LITTLE CHEST.

WHAT I NOTICE, IS GOD TOOK FROM US LITTLE ANGELS WHO COULD HAVE SUFFERED MORE (living with heart problems)…AND GAVE US MORE COMPASSION AND LOVE FOR OTHERS… SO MUCH IS NEEDED IN THIS CRAZY WORLD WE LIVE IN…

JUDY, KEEP SMILING…ALL YOUR PICTURES ARE LIT BY YOUR SMILE…IT IS HARD FOR ME TO FIND THE WORDS TO SAY HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR HONESTY, UNDERSTANDING, AND LOVE TO EVERYBODY…KEEP IN TOUCH…. HUG TO YOUR MOM…

MY LOVE TO ALL OF YOU, MAGDA

P.S. (Unfortunately, I type w/ one hand only because my left one doesn’t move too much)

On February 2, 2010, Judy Unger wrote:

Dearest, dearest Magda,

As I read your message over and over, each time I am sobbing and crying fresh tears. What can I say? I realize now that my mom’s illness has brought me here. Of course, it made sense that my trauma would be re-ignited by seeing all the tubes and machines. Also her inability to eat triggered something primitive within me, it brought back all the feeding problems that I had with Jason.

In order to go on after such a loss, we certainly change. It is so true about you being sensitive and loving kids so much. Your beautiful grandchildren are benefiting from receiving your endless, wellspring of love and devotion. I’ve been a zombie, because although I thought I was a champion through the grief process, I had to continue to be a champion for my childrens’ issues. That left me no time to grieve over that!

I get choked up remembering how you told me you didn’t come into the funeral room, but waited in the lobby. You were too upset after seeing his little casket. I only recently remembered that I actually tape recorded my eulogy. There was no way I could get up there to read it on that sad day!

It has been 18 years since Jason died, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. When my mother-in-law died recently, I came across his little lunchbox that she saved. It was full of pictures and even a pacifier. She once told me she was looking forward to seeing him again when she died. Lately, I think about that, too.

Your words about his freckle face create tears because sometimes I can’t believe he was real. To know that you still remember him – his voice, his face – it means so much! Sometimes I feel like I’m losing him again, because the memories start to fade. But that is protection from the rawness that I used to feel. I used to cry every, single day for years and years, and I haven’t been able to cry for a very, long time. I think this morning, it was a good thing I did.

If there were a wish I could make on this earth, it would be for you to have held your little son (and of course, that he would have lived!) He will always be a part of you, even though you never saw him. That is why you have written this heartfelt message to me – channeling the sensitivity you have through him.

In grief, we have both opened up doors within our heart.

Thank you for bringing Jason back to me for a little while this morning. I love you so much!

Love, Judy