myjourneysinsight

IT’S NOT FOREVER – PART 2

Posted on October 22, 2015 by Judy

IT’S NOT FOREVER

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You say your pain will always be there

and every day is a nightmare

I remember so well, living with that kind of hell

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It’s not forever

It feels like it’s never going to change

I once felt that way

Today I can see; hope carried me

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After he left, your world was shattered;

he was all that mattered

When life seems unreal,

it’s hard to imagine you could heal

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It’s not forever

It feels like it’s never going to change

Time could not sever my love

Today I see; love carried me

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A long time ago I felt hopeless,

but I know–

it’s not forever

It feels like it’s never going to change

Time could not sever my love

Today I see, you carried

me . . .

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Click the blue links below to hear recordings of my song:

Other parts to this story can be found here:

IT’S NOT FOREVER-PART 1

IT’S NOT FOREVER-PART 3

It was only a month ago when I wrote out the chords for “It’s Not Forever.” Like many of my songs, the music came to me first. I was certain the words would appear when I was ready; it was a gift to me when they did.

This watercolor painting of mine was used for a memorial plaque I created for Jason. It hung in the hallway where he attended preschool. Autumn triggers many feelings for me.

This watercolor painting of mine was used on a memorial plaque I created for Jason. It hung in the hallway where he attended preschool. Autumn triggers many feelings for me.

For over three years, I’ve corresponded with a woman named Sammi. She inspired my lyrics for “It’s Not Forever.”

From the time I first read Sammi’s words on an Internet grief forum, I was extremely moved by her raw and achingly honest expression of grief. Sammi’s world was shattered when her son AJ died. (To read some of our exchanges, simply type her name into the search box on the right side of the blog homepage.)

When lyrics eventually poured forth from me, at first I wasn’t sure about whether they worked. I have written many songs related to grief and find it difficult to soften my lyrics when expressing those feelings.

After some mild indecision, I did not remove the word “hell” from my song.

I had also felt the same way when I wrote my song “Wonder Why.” Words like “torture and madness” weren’t beautiful ones. But in that song, they helped me to express my feelings while posing a question to God about needless suffering.

I decided to ask my friend Sammi for her opinion; after all, she was my inspiration for this song. Below is our exchange after I shared an acoustic version of my song in progress: (A similar acoustic recording can be heard on Part 1).

Dear Sammi,

I have really changed my thinking related to grief and healing. I don’t want to preach anymore about certainty of healing. I’d rather just offer my own experience in order to provide hopefulness. I believe my eye problems have given me a lot more compassion. I often am so miserable that it’s hard for me to be hopeful that it will get better. My song gives me hope!

But even though I am sharing my own experience with this song, I am still speaking to someone. The person in my mind is you.

My song is in its first stages. I sang it into a digital recorder today and want to share it with you. I’m a little uncertain about using the word “hell” in one of my songs and would love your feedback.

Thanks for letting me share. Always hoping you‘ll have better days.

Hi Judy,

I read your song’s lyrics and they clearly state true feelings of those who have lost a loved one. They are perfect and I wouldn’t change it no matter how dark it may seem. Your subject matter alone is dark.

We are at different stages in our grief journey but I don’t agree with the “it’s not forever” phrase. It is forever; it becomes muted over time. I have found with the loss of my Mother that I can bring that pain back in a heartbeat . . . it is there forever . . . it just recedes. It takes many years. You have already reached that place. I don’t mean to criticize, sorry, I just think the word ‘forever’ should be qualified.

Can’t believe I stick in your head like that Judy. Some people would take that as a punishment.

Oh Sammi, thank you so much for taking the time to listen and write; I really appreciate what you wrote.

My song is still evolving for me and I value your insight about “forever.” I do like the title, but it’s a paradox. I say, “Time cannot sever my love.” So love is forever for me.

I think the part I wanted to convey is that the “hell” isn’t forever. That was it.

I certainly don’t see what you are saying as criticism. One decision I made was to end each chorus with a different word as follows: 1. Hope carried me 2. Love carried me 3. You carried me. I really like that progression.

Oh, yes, Sammi – you stick in my head. It is not punishment. You are a beautiful woman carrying a lifetime of sorrow. I wish you peace.

My son’s death certificate shows he never married and never worked. He was only 5 years old. So many things he never was able to do. But he was real and he did live for five years. His presence and his absence changed my life.

My son’s death certificate shows he never married and never worked. Because he died at age five, there were so many things he never was able to do. But he was real and he did live for five years. His presence and his absence changed my life. (Clicking on this makes it larger)

Not long after this exchange, Sammi wrote a touching post on our grief forum. I share an excerpt below. Despite her heartache, I can feel some hopefulness in her words.

On Aug 27, 2015, Sammi wrote:

Three years. I have been on this pothole marred road for three years. I have made this journey with help from those that have gone before me and I have been accompanied by my stalker grief.

I am amazed that I am still standing, that I still breathe, that I still look forward. Turning around and looking back I see the black sky, the angry grey clouds, the pouring rain and those souls that have fallen into the myriad of holes that need to be navigated. I won’t lie. I have fallen into many of those holes and have needed to pull myself out or be helped out. Many times I wanted to let go of the edge and just let myself be pulled down into the darkness. It welcomes you; it offers you an end to your endless pain. It promises you peace.

I am always tempted, but I trudge on. Looking forward I notice that the sky, though still black, seems lighter, the clouds, though still angry, are breaking apart, the potholes, though still numerous, have more room between them. I now find myself reaching into those potholes of despair and helping others out. I now look back to make sure those that need it have help.

My road now has off-ramps, not many but they are there. I can now pull off at times for some respite from the constant pain. My stalker, grief, does not like this and tries to knock me back to where I was. It has no rules and is ruthless in its attempts but I put my head down, gather the strength I have accrued over the three years and continue moving ahead.

At times, I have wanted to ask for medication to numb myself to the world around me, but I haven’t . . . at times I have wanted to drink myself into a stupor, but I haven’t . . . I have made it this far with no chemical or liquid help. When all is said and done, you have to do it on your own.

It doesn’t go away. So, three years in and here I am, still missing my beautiful boy, still aching to see and hear him, still wanting to wrap my arms around him and breathe him in, still amazed that a human being can still stand while experiencing such excruciating pain every day, still being amazed by who has stood by and helped me and who has fallen by the wayside.

I am determined to move forward to help others who need it and to find what it is I am supposed to do with what I have learned.

Ending my song with “being carried” is such a beautiful concept for me. Who is carrying me? Just imagining that is uplifting and I have many interpretations for those words.

Like Sammi, a long time ago I was certain I would grieve forever.

I end this post with some of the words I wrote as the lyrics unfolded for this song.

This was something I wrote two years after my son died.

This was something I wrote three years after my son died.

© 2015 by Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com. 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.

ALABASTER SEASHELL-PART 2

Posted on October 16, 2015 by Judy

Alabaster Seashell is one of my favorite songs. It has such a mystical quality, with descriptive words and eerie music.

Click the blue link below to hear it:

Alabaster Seashell Arrangement

Alabaster Seashell Vocal Mix

Two years ago, I created another arrangement for this song. It was very beautiful, but I did not feel the same emotional connection that I had for my first version. Below is the arrangement without a vocal:

Link to other stories about this song:

Story behind ALABASTER SEASHELL-PART 1

Story behind ALABASTER SEASHELL-PART 3

I must reveal that the painting I used for my Alabaster Seashell cover isn’t really alabaster!

Over the five years since I first recorded my song “Alabaster Seashell,” my voice has changed considerably. When I listen to my earlier recordings, it doesn’t even sound like it’s me!

The chords and lyrics for the verses of this song were written long ago, when I was only 17 years old. I expanded my song three decades later to write a chorus explaining what the seashell represented to me.

The alabaster seashell held memories that were a comfort and reminder of love.

I’m glad that I can share how in my current life I’m enjoying creating new memories. I really do search for ways to find peacefulness and treasure each day.

A month ago my childhood friend, Joni, asked me what I planned to do on my birthday. I told her I wasn’t really sure; my birthday was tinged with sadness because I missed my mom. She died two days before my birthday two years ago.

Joni was especially sympathetic because she missed my mom, too. When we were growing up, Joni was almost like part of my family. It was an amazing coincidence that she shared the same birthday as my mother. I remember many times going shopping with my mom so she could find a card for Joni, which mentioned their mutual birthdays.

This picture was taken about twelve years ago. My life was so different then when my parents were still alive.

Joni asked me what I missed doing with my mom. I told her we often shopped together and then ate out at one of our favorite restaurants.

I didn’t want to remember my mother’s decline. A few years before she died, we stopped going on those outings. Before that, she grimaced as she pushed her walker into stores with me. She insisted she was fine, but I could see her pain. On a few occasions, she collapsed to the ground and I dashed to pick her up in terror.

Joni said, “Well how about if on your birthday, we go shopping and out to dinner then? Tell me the favorite stores you went to.”

I rattled off a few . . .

Joni is in the middle and her younger sister, Shari, has such an adorable expression on the right.

A few days before my birthday, Joni reminded me of our outing. I said to her, “Hey instead of shopping, let’s go outdoors – could we go to the beach in the late afternoon instead?”

Joni told me it was a fantastic idea. I surprised myself by suggesting it because I seldom did anything like that.

But when I was a young girl, the beach was my favorite place to go with my friends.

In this picture, Joni joined my family on a boat trip.

Joni was very close to both my parents.

The weather was perfect and the sky was beautiful. The clouds were delicate and created extraordinary textures that reflected back from the mirrored slicks of wet sand.

It was balmy and comfortable, which was lovely because it had been so hot in the city we left behind. I soaked up the sweet coolness and my good friend’s tenderness.

This close up really shows the amazing reflections of clouds on the wet sand in the late afternoon.

It was a little over a year ago when Joni had open-heart surgery to repair a heart valve. Thankfully, she had healed and gotten much of her strength back.

We had known each other almost all our lives. So much of our destinies were intertwined because of our friendship. The fact that I currently lived in the same building where we played together as toddlers was amazing. Yes, memories were always vivid when we were together.

This picture is with my older brother, Norm, on the left. Joni and I were about 19 years old, at the time.

This picture is with my older brother, Norm. Joni and I were about 19.

On this beautiful day that was my 56^th birthday, we talked about our present lives and challenges. We revealed dreams about things we loved to imagine in our future. And we reminisced about our childhood.

We ate dinner overlooking the ocean. On our way home, we even stopped at one of the stores where I used to shop with my mom, too.

I came home and enjoyed seeing the pictures from our day. I planned to celebrate with all three of my children the next day. It was fine, since my oldest son was helping his father move on my actual birthday and couldn’t be there.

My day was additionally sweet because I had lunch with my sister-in-law before I met up with Joni.

I received so many beautiful Facebook wishes and text messages. I appreciated them all and replied to every one. There were messages from friends I hadn’t seen since elementary school!

I especially loved the picture my daughter sent me that she had quickly snapped a week before.

There is one line in my song “Alabaster Seashell” that usually brings me to tears.

“Reminders of days, like the one – holding him tightly in a setting sun.”

I originally wrote that line remembering a romantic moment. But 30 years later, I interpreted it very differently. Now that line was about how I anticipated my young son’s death. I held him with great sadness while we watched a beautiful beach sunset together.

Yesterday, the sun was setting as Joni and I walked along the beach. It was not a dramatic sunset, instead it was soft and subtle. I noticed the quiet passage of pastel colors slowly fading into darkness and felt very peaceful.

Joni has gone through a lot with her heart issues. She is still making changes to her life and adjusting. I admire her courage.

Being peaceful was a great feeling. I knew there were many things we both could have worried about. Thinking about aging can sometimes lead to depressing thoughts.

But instead, life was glorious.

I photographed a white seashell, so I could write this story and have a picture of a real alabaster seashell.

What seems especially beautiful and telling, is that I had no desire to bring it home and save it.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2015. 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 acknowledging grief, acoustic guitar, adjusting from grief, Alabaster Seashell, beach, beautiful memories, birthday celebration, childhood friend, childhood friendship, childhood memories, clam, collect shells, collection, collection. triton, composing, death of a child, Friendship, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, guitar on the beach, healing music, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyrics, memories of friendship, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's illness, Music, music and healing, optimism, original songs, sand, seashell, Seashell metaphor, seashore, shell, shore, singing, songwriter, songwriting, triton, watercolor seashell, writing | 8 Comments

IT’S NOT FOREVER – PART 1

Posted on October 1, 2015 by Judy

This illustration of mine is the cover for my song named Autumn Recollections, which was composed in 1977. The fall is significant for me because that was when my son, Jason died. And later on my mother also died in the fall.

In five days, it will be the 23^rd anniversary of Jason’s death. He died in 1992 at the age of five from a congenital heart defect.

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This post is my way to honor him.–

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Last week I composed a new song, which I named “It’s Not Forever.” I gave my new song that title before I even composed any lyrics or melody.

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I haven’t decided upon my lyrics exactly, but the arrangement is done and I plan to record my guitar into it soon. I’m excited to share here an acoustic version I recorded in my bedroom, as well as the arrangement in progress.

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Click the blue links to hear my song:

I usually write a new song every few months. It surprised me that another song came to me so soon, since I just composed my song “In the Past.”

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“It’s Not Forever” is definitely about coping in the present. I find it humorous. Now I’ve moved out of the past and perhaps I’ll name my next song “Someday” as a tribute to the future!

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These lyrics to my newest song mention how “I’ve been there, too. That is similar to my older song “Hang On.”

Since my music and writing journey began in 2010, a lot of things have changed for me regarding my feelings about grief.

In 2011, I wrote my song “Hang On.” My lyrics had me speaking to someone whom I imagined had given up on life. I emphatically say, “One day, your pain will go away!”

How could I know that? I’m squirming just thinking about how I had the confidence to write those lyrics. And yet, many times I’ve felt hopeless and listened to my own song. It has uplifted me, so that counters some of my conflicted feelings.

I’m not planning to revise “Hang On,” but moving forward I prefer not to tell anyone how, when or whether they might heal. I want my words to only reflect my own experience.

Recently, I sang a new vocal for “Hang On” and the story where it can be heard is at the blue link below:

Hang On – Original Story and Song

“The years that buried me”

It turned out that I was very inspired by a paragraph I wrote while composing “In the Past.” Even though I only used one word from that entire paragraph in my song (tragedy), those sentences were very profound for me.

I was extremely moved by the line of: “How could I forget you?”

I have told myself many times that my deceased son, Jason wouldn’t have wanted me to suffer with endless grief.

Despite knowing that, I couldn’t help my feelings. He was dead and I was left coping with horrific pain.

I believe that for a long time, I subconsciously felt guilty letting go of my grief and sadness. My subconscious dictated that if I wasn’t crying, perhaps I had forgotten how much I loved him.

A few weeks ago, I was up late at night writing an introduction for a book about grief, which I planned to record as an audiobook. It was something I had wanted to do for a long time, but wasn’t sure where to begin.

My hesitation was related to how it was going to be different from the one I thought I’d release three years ago. I no longer wanted to “ educate” anyone about grief and preach that healing was certain.

It turned out that living with my dry eye condition gave me a lot more compassion. It was hard to have hope of healing when pain in the present was overwhelming.

When I wrote my introduction, I shared a long list of words I copied from a post on an Internet grief forum. This group had thousands of members and people were asked to use a single word to describe their grief. Below is just a partial list:Some hopeful words that really stood out to me were: stages, brave, enlightening, determined, necessary and life changing. The people who wrote those words amazed me with their positive approach; I know words are powerful and can shape feelings. When I’ve described my grief – it wasn’t with such positive intentions.

Expressing raw pain was more helpful for me because it was a release. Eighteen years after my son’s death, I could easily remember and write about the horror of losing him. I called it the “amputation of my soul” and that statement described deep pain no one else could see or imagine.

So my word on that long list was “amputation.” A sudden amputation could cause a person to bleed to death; it leaves huge scars and one must learn to compensate for the missing part. That is what I’ve done.

The word on that long list that was repeated most often was “forever.” That certainly fits my belief about how the amputation of my soul changed me forever. All of this led me to write my new song.

These are the chorus lyrics to my newest song “in progress.”

This paragraph inspired chorus lyrics to my newest song “in progress.”

So what exactly am I singing about in, “It’s Not Forever?”

I am singing to someone in grief in the verses and in the chorus I am singing to myself.

I express how thankful I am that my grief did not last forever.

And my song offers me hope that my dry eye discomfort will get better someday – just like some of the awful things I’ve experienced in my past. I still become emotional remembering Jason’s death 23 years later, but it is much different now.

I realize that the last line of the chorus – of “being carried” is a cliché. However, sometimes I’ve wondered how I’ve coped as well as I have. My explanation is that I have been carried – hope, love, memories and God. Those are blessings that I am grateful for every day of my life.

The word “always” is similar to “forever” and represents extreme thinking. “Never” is also extreme, being the opposite.

On that long list, I think “forever” is the saddest word. To me, it represents complete hopelessness. Similar ones are: terminal, everlasting, always, lifeless, eternal and infinite.

It’s interesting, but all of those words not only describe grief, they also clearly revolve around death.

Yes, death certainly is forever.

Even though my song started out as a testament to my healing from grief – it ended up carrying another important meaning for me beyond that.

What is not forever is LIFE! Life is finite.

So even though I wrote my song to express how deep grief did not last forever for me, now I’m reminded that, “Life is not forever.”

I want to make the most of this precious gift I have been given. Every day, I search for ways to treasure my life. What especially gives me joy are my three children. I am fortunate that they are all very close to me.

This past month, my youngest son (18) began attending college for the first time. He has had so many wonderful experiences so far, which he has shared with me. This led me to find additional insight for my song.

“It’s not forever” also applies to what can easily be taken for granted. Watching my children grow up has been such a blessing. One day, they will be much older and things might be different. Sometimes, it’s hard to realize how precious something is until it is gone.

When my child died, I buried him and part of me died, too. I wanted to crawl into his coffin to be with him. I wished I were dead because the pain was too much for me.

I kept on going. It seemed like my grief was endless and forever – but it turned out it wasn’t. Eventually, I marveled at my survival.

The years that buried me are over now because I found a way to dig myself out. And when I did, I realized that Jason had never left me.

I only left behind my grief and sadness. I rediscovered joy.

The huge hole in my heart wasn’t empty either – it was filled with our love.

Jason on bike

Below are links to Part 2 and 3 of this story:

IT’S NOT FOREVER-PART 2

IT’S NOT FOREVER-PART 3

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Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged acknowledging grief, acoustic guitar, adjusting from grief, autumn leaves, beautiful music, changing your life, child's death, childhood friendship, comforting music, compassionate friends, composing, death of a child, Empathy and Grief, expressing feelings, finding happiness after losing a child, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", Grief descriptions, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, Hang On, happiness after death of a child, healing and grief, healing from grief, healing music, hope, hope carried me, hope for healing, hope of healing, I once felt that way, inspiration, is happiness possible after losing a child, It's Not Forever, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a child, love carried me, love is never gone, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, music and healing, music arrangements, musical comfort, optimism, optimism after loss, original songs, overcoming grief, singing, songwriting, staying positive, surviving grief, you carried me | 28 Comments

THE UNKNOWN-PART 2

Posted on September 16, 2015 by Judy

I love this image of a baby hummingbird imagining it will fly somewhere. That must be why I have song lyrics about finding wings and soaring free.

Link to more stories about this song: THE UNKNOWN

The lyrics above are new ones I wrote for a bridge that my latest arrangement carries. The touch I crave (I say this with completely honesty) is the one I feel when I touch other people with my music and stories.

This photo is from a recent performance of my song that I will share soon.

At this time, I can admit that I still go to places that heal me.

“The Unknown” is the song that doomed my marriage of 31 years. When it “erupted” in 2011, I was very distraught because I admitted feelings I had previously denied for years. I kept my song a secret until I found the courage to set myself free. But it took several more songs to prod me forward.

Dreaming helps me to conquer fear. Once upon a time, it seemed like changing my life was insurmountable; the unknown was very scary. I no longer worry about my future. Because at this moment – it’s feeling very beautiful for me!

If anyone is curious to know more about how this song began, I share links below:

#369 THE UNKNOWN-PART 1

#304 I’M READY TO LIVE ON MY OWN

#364 MY HEART WAS LIKE STONE

#365 THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT

#366 I’M READY – PART 2

#368 THIS FEELS SO WRONG–

It was afternoon and I was ready to sing. My last few song vocals had come out so well and I was quite proud. It wasn’t because I was such a great singer; it was because I had been “surfing with emotion.” And wiping out.–

That meant I was usually weeping while singing. I was prepared for those moments of uncontrollable tears. The feeling behind them translated well into my vocal performance. There was no holding back for me.

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A few days ago, I decided to record new vocals for my song “The Unknown.” I wasn’t sure I could replace the vocal I had. I knew for certain, that I could sing that song much better now. But the emotion was hard to match.

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I decided to take a shot at it. It will be a few weeks before I can edit it. But I already know it came out great. I sang my song fourteen times.

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Today happens to be the date of my “former wedding anniversary.” It is the first one since my divorce. I want to share something I wrote a year ago on my blog. It is a story about my final anniversary, which was only two weeks before I told my husband I wanted a divorce.–

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THE UNKNOWN

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THE DRAGON AND THE LAST ANNIVERSARY

The Princess knew that she could not hold her secret much longer. Like acid, it was burning and pouring out from every part of her body.

Only a week after her father had died, her secret escaped. She tortured herself because she had burdened her own child on top of everything else. Now that her son knew her horrible secret, he pushed her constantly to “get it over with.” He told her she could no longer wait. She replied that she was praying for the right moment. But there would not be one.

That was because she knew the dragon was unprepared and would be wounded beyond description. She wished there were an easier way, but she could not think of any. Over and over she heard her son’s words, “Just do it! Kick the bucket; kick the bucket!”

Every day held torment, especially when she faced the dragon. She hated his presence because he carried tremendous stress with every word he spoke; he made her ill.

She made it a point to avoid him and wondered if he even noticed. For weeks now, they had hardly spoken. Sometimes, she was amazed that he didn’t complain about her absence. He seemed so unhappy with her, but never said a word about it. He projected his anger instead to the many things that were wrong in their castle. Clearly, he felt the Princess had done a poor job disciplining their offspring.

Once upon a time, she had tried so hard to make him happy. But when she found her music, she decided to focus her energy elsewhere. She was relieved to discover her own happiness outside of him and wondered how he lived with so much unhappiness.

Because they didn’t really have a definite anniversary, there was never a celebration. Long ago, she had complained and occasionally he gave her a card. He would simply sign his name and run out to buy it at the last minute. She even felt badly to trouble him with that obligation.

In the more recent years, she had trouble finding a card to give him. That was because most cards made her sad. She couldn’t find any card with sweet words that were true for her. The truth was their life together was empty.

Soon it would be their 30th anniversary. The Princess suffered greatly as she anticipated it. She decided not to buy a card for him.

When the day was finally over, she was deeply relieved. It had gone by like a silent whisper. Yet it was still louder than deafening thunder in her brain.

It turned out that the dragon never mentioned anything to her; he had not even remembered a card.

In her tortured mind, she was certain he knew. Perhaps her son had told him of her plans to ask for a divorce. She imagined that the Dragon was preparing himself for that moment.

A few days later, her son tearfully reminded her that she needed to kick the bucket and tell his father. The Princess muttered over and over, “Kick the bucket, kick the bucket!” for several more days.

Finally, she made up her mind that she was going to do it. It was almost like vomiting. She slowly walked upstairs and into their bedroom to expel the sickening words. With every ounce of courage she told the dragon that their marriage was over.

The Dragon displayed little emotion. She assumed he was in shock just as she had expected. But she decided to ask him.

Only a week before when he ignored their anniversary – was it because he knew she was going to divorce him?

The dragon shook his head and told her.

He just hadn’t remembered.