myjourneysinsight

WHEN LIFE HOLDS PAIN

Posted on November 1, 2014 by Judy

Tonight is the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death on the Jewish calendar. She was very observant and lighting a Yarzeit (memorial) candle was something she faithfully followed for her deceased loved ones. Even though I am not religious, I’ve decided that I will do this for my mother.

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I lit a candle and remembered how much she loved me.

These are lyrics from my song "You Were There," which I wrote for my mother. I just finished a new vocal for it last week.

These are lyrics from my song “You Were There,” which I wrote for my mother. I recently finished a new vocal for it.

Last week, I had lunch with my friend, Janis. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized how we hadn’t mentioned anything at all about our mothers; her mother died only five weeks after mine.

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That was so different from our last lunch six months before, where we both talked a lot about our sadness. The fact that we talked about ordinary life instead of our grief seemed like a beautiful sign of healing to me.

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My post title of “When Life Holds Pain” is a lyric line from my song “Rainbow Through My Tears.” I composed that song a year ago and recently decided to sing a new vocal for it.

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When I wrote that song, I was still waiting to see a rainbow representing healing. I feel like I can relate to my song even more now. I am elated that my eyes have been less painful. Even though they are not “normal” like they used to be, I can cope far better with less pain.

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Pain can be intolerable. I’ve learned that maintaining hope of healing has helped me greatly in every discouraging situation I’ve faced in my life.

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I have been watching my close friend, Joni; go through the process of healing. Only two weeks after celebrating her fifty-fifth birthday in July, Joni was in the ER with difficulty breathing. What initially seemed to be pneumonia turned out to be a heart condition. She was told she needed surgery to repair one of her heart valves.

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This certainly upended my dear friend’s life. Before having her surgery, she came out to see me at Kulak’s one night when I performed. That night, her husband took a picture of us hugging.

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Joni has gone through a lot since her surgery. For weeks, she has dealt with constant pain and fatigue – her recovery has been slow and not as swift as she had hoped for.

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Her health crisis came at a time when she was elated to have found a job she loved as a masseuse. She had to quit her job and hoped she could work again. A lot of healing was needed for her to reach that place.

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Last week, I was elated to see that she felt a little better. She had gone on an easy hike and sent me a text message with pictures.

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She wrote, “Outdoors, Yeah! It smells like pinecones melting in autumn sun! Yum.”

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I could tell from her smiling face in the sun that she was healing.

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About two weeks ago, I started to notice that my left leg was aching. I tried to ignore it, but found myself grimacing whenever I stood in my kitchen. I was on one of my “exercise walks” in the late afternoon, when the pain in my leg began to increase. Soon I was gasping and looking for a place to sit down.

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The last thing I wanted to do was go to a doctor. Finally, I realized that since it hadn’t gone away – I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

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I sent a very hesitant email message to my doctor. It was Friday morning and I wrote, “I might come see you on Monday if this pain continues.”

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I was in shock when I received a message back from him only five minutes later. He wrote, “You don’t have to wait; I have some openings this afternoon.”

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His response reminded me what a great doctor he was.

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I took the last appointment available, which was at 4:30. It meant a lot of traffic to contend with, but allowed me to keep my earlier appointment with George, my musical arranger.

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All morning, George and I continued working on a gorgeous new arrangement for my song “Angel in the Sky.” I was fine while working because my leg never bothered me when I was sitting.

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But when I stood up to leave, my leg began throbbing. I was glad I had made that appointment with Dr. Wong.

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The waiting room was deserted. In a few hours it was Halloween night; this was such an eerie time to be at a doctor’s office. I was sure my doctor wanted to get home to trick or treat with his young children.

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I didn’t wait long. Dr. Wong came into the exam room; he was caring and concerned like always. But before I could talk about my leg, I told him I had to share something with him.

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My eyes glistened as I spoke.

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“Dr. Wong, do you remember when I came to you two months ago? I wondered if there was something wrong with me that was causing my dry eyes. I was very overweight and discouraged; I was almost certain one of the blood tests would come back with a result indicating a problem – but everything was normal.”

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I added, “Well you know what really helped me?”

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He asked me what he had done that was so helpful.

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“When you told me that you saw me as a strong person – when I made up my mind, I would be able to lose weight. Your faith in me made a difference. It inspired me to change my habits and I’ve lost about ten pounds since then!”

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Dr. Wong grinned and said, “That’s great! Yes, I did notice your weight loss.”

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I also shared with him how my eyes had improved since I had started drinking a lot of water on a daily basis – it made a huge difference.

Because my eyes are better, I’ve been playing more often at open mics.

Because my eyes are better, I’ve been performing more.

After asking me a few questions about my leg, Dr. Wong told me he wanted a physical therapist to examine me. I was very impressed when only five minutes later a physical therapist came into the exam room.

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She was very thorough and treated me respectfully. After her exam, she said that I had an inflamed femoral nerve in my thigh. How that happened was a mystery, but getting older certainly has led to aches and pains. She recommended using ice and gave me a few exercises and other suggestions to help me deal with my pain.

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I limped back to my car filled with relief that my pain wasn’t anything serious.

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It was now almost dark and I was glad to be going home. I put on the song that George and I had created earlier in the day. It was a perfect opportunity for me to practice my singing. My car swelled with the beautiful notes of the new arrangement for “Angel in the Sky.” I was in heaven with my angel as I sang aloud.

– When life holds pain 2

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There was a lot of stop and go traffic on the freeway. It was starting to drizzle and very gloomy; I continued singing.

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Suddenly, I saw a large SUV ahead swerve out of control. It spun into my lane and the car in front of mine smashed into it. I instinctively hit my brakes and thankfully, I wasn’t going very fast.

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My car screeched to a halt only a few inches from the accident. As I was braking, I prayed the car behind me would not rear-end mine. But there was no impact and I had luckily avoided crashing.

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My heart was pounding and the poignant music was still playing as I signaled and carefully moved around the accident.

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I drove home and decided my “angel in the sky” was my “angel on the freeway” at that moment.

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© 2014 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.

Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged acoustic guitar, angel in the sky, anniversary of mother's death, arranging music, autumn leaves, beautiful music, comforting music, composing, creativity, Dealing with pain, death, expressing feelings, Friendship, guitar, healing and grief, healing music, hope, hope for healing, hope of healing, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a mom, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, memorial candle, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother's death, Music, music and healing, music arrangements, musical comfort, optimism, original songs, performing, Rainbow through my tears, singing, songwriting, Yarzeit candle | 8 Comments

WITH ME WHEN I WAS BORN

Posted on October 14, 2014 by Judy

My mother’s first anniversary of death was two days ago and I visited the cemetery where she and my father are buried together. It was no coincidence that my last post title was named “My Lovely Light.” I feel my mother and father lighting the way for me.

My mother’s first anniversary of death was two days ago. It was no coincidence that my last post title was named “My Lovely Light.” I feel my mother and father lighting the way for me.

The toes at the top are my niece and nephew who joined brother, my sister-in-law, and me when we visited my parents’ grave over the weekend. Unfortunately, my two brothers are estranged and my middle brother was not there (even though his children were.)

The toes at the top are my niece and nephew who joined my brother, sister-in-law and me when we visited my parents’ grave over the weekend. Unfortunately, my two brothers are estranged and my middle brother was not there (even though his children were.)

Link to performances, stories, lyrics and recordings: WITH ME

I’ve had a lot of construction going on in my apartment. My bathroom has been completely torn apart – I’ve had to go outside to use a storeroom toilet in the coop complex where I live for five days. It’s been stressful and unfortunately, the dust has irritated my eyes. But I still celebrate that they aren’t torturing me like they were before.

I was working on a new song arrangement for my latest composition named “Watching You Grow.” I even joyfully performed my new song several times at open mics.

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But for some reason I lost my feeling for it.

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I realize that it might be because the past few weeks I’ve had some struggles with my children. I’ve thought about renaming my song, “Grow Up Already!”

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I’ve continued to push myself to perform. It takes a lot of courage and energy for me to put myself in front of an audience. But I love opening my heart and there is nothing more healing for me than that.

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I picked “With Me when I Was Born” as my post title because today is my birthday.

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My title is also a lyric line from my song named “With Me.”

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Even though I was initially absorbed with my newest song composition, my heart took a complete turn when George and I finished a new song arrangement for “With Me.” It had been partially started a month earlier. I asked George to rework it several times until it grabbed me.

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When I have a song that “grabs” me, it is so uplifting that I feel like every day is my birthday!

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This new arrangement is very inspiring and ethereal. Although I wrote “With Me” while my father was dying, it is applicable to both my parents. I get teary remembering how much they both loved me.

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But sometimes I imagine that God is speaking to me with my song. I’m sharing a preliminary version here.

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My links below share the lyrics and tell the story about this song in more depth:

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#289 YOU’RE WITH ME – PART 1

#347 WITH ME – PART 2

I remember my mother’s touch; she was so tender and loving.

Today I am 55 years old.

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Recently, I have been making many major repairs on the coop where I’m living. This place is almost the same age I am because my parents moved into it when I was a year old. I moved back two years ago after leaving my marriage of 31 years. My father had recently died and my mother was in a nursing home.

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I’ve wondered what my father would think about my home improvements and the fact that I am living in his former “castle.”

I prefer not to remember my parents this way; it’s painful. Yet I am grateful that I had them for as many years as I did.

When my father was alive, he refused to let anyone “touch” his stuff. He was a serious hoarder and could never throw anything away.

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It took ten dumpsters to fully empty the coop of all his “stuff.” It’s possible that some of what was discarded could have actually been valuable. I wish he would have allowed me to clean this place before he died because I had so many questions for him.

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There were many boxes of pictures that hold mysteries, since I have no idea who the people are in them. The thousands of cards he saved have stirred many memories. I share one that is very painful at the end of this post.

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I had a disagreement with my father not long before he died. His eyes were clouded by constant pain because he was sick from persistent urinary tract infections. I have a stabbing sensation in my heart when I remember his misery.

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For two years, his granddaughter lived in the coop (my parents were in a nursing home.) Although the price was right, it wasn’t very comfortable because of my father’s refusal to allow anything to be touched. My niece’s clothes were laid out on the floor because there was no room in the closet and the dresser drawers were packed with old clothes.

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My niece was in a serious relationship and asked my father if her boyfriend could move in with her. My father was more than adamantly opposed. He became furious during discussions and could not be swayed.

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His granddaughter moved out six months later and got married.

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Not long after that, I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. I told my father that it would be great if my mother’s companion, Miriam, could live in that vacant coop.

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In return for living there, we would reduce her pay. And Miriam was desperately looking for a place to move to at that time. She wanted to leave her marriage and had no financial means to get an apartment on her own.

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Although my father loved Miriam, he bristled and once again firmly told me “no.”

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I wondered why he preferred the apartment to be vacant and wouldn’t consider this temporarily. It seemed like a “win-win situation.” His long-term care checks that provided the money to pay Miriam were ending in two months. There wouldn’t be any money left to pay her and it would be up to my brothers and I.

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Our disagreement fills me with regret because I’d never seen him so angry. His eyes flashed and with all the energy he could muster he snarled, “No one is living in that coop except FAMILY! Do you get that? I don’t want you to mention this again!”

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A month later he was on his deathbed and tired of his painful existence. The thought of going on state assistance when his long-term care ended filled him with dread and he died one month before that would have happened.

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I will never forget the experience of watching his die. Even though it was the end of his suffering and his wish, I saw him in unbearable agony up until the moment he took his last breath. It was the same way for my mother, too.

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How could my father have known that only a month after his death I would ask my husband for a divorce?

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I ended up moving into the apartment where I grew up. The place that he had wanted “only for family” was for me. Perhaps he knew that I would do this, since I told him I planned to end my marriage sometime in the future. He gave me his blessing.

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At night I talk to my dad and thank him for his foresight.

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He and my mother continue to be with me every step of the way.

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Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, adjusting to loss of parents, Aging Parents, cemetery visit, comfort while grieving, composing, dad died, death of a father, father's death, father's illness, grief, GRIEF RELATED, grieving a dad, grieving a father, grieving my dad, guitar, healing music, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, loss of a father, loss of my dad, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, not sure where I'm going, optimism, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, through the darkness, visiting the cemetery, with me, writing, you are my light, you are with me, You're With Me | 7 Comments

MY LOVELY LIGHT

Posted on October 6, 2014 by Judy

Autumn leaves always remind me of my son’s death.

I share below a link to see a video of my open mic performance last week. I played my song “Angel in the Sky” to honor my deceased son, Jason. With heartfelt lyrics, music and my voice – my song tells this story in another way.

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Link to my story and song “Angel in the Sky”

ANGEL IN THE SKY-PART 1

The post title of “My Lovely Light” is from my song “Angel in the Sky.” Today is the twenty-second anniversary of Jason’s death. He died at the age of five on October 6, 1992.

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A decade after his death, I was very busy raising my other children. It was definitely a diversion from grief and I became very adept at burying my feelings. Although I seldom mentioned him to anyone, not a moment went by without the feeling of deep sadness in my soul.

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When I began this blog in 2010, it was the beginning of my healing. I wrote about Jason’s life and death six months later; it unburdened me in many ways. Since then, I am amazed at how much my grief has transformed.

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It is very inspiring to share my feelings after suffering for so many years. How I arrived at such a beautiful place is miraculous for me.

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I often feel as though God blessed me with music to guide me. Music has definitely brought me tremendous healing and inner peace.

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My life is “filled with song” (that is actually a lyric line of mine). Every single day I sing, listen to, compose and record songs that relate directly to my life with almost every word.

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This past month, I was working on several songs with an important theme that clearly explains my healing.

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I have often mentioned growing up with “black and white” thinking. This probably ties into my using metaphors of darkness and light for my songs.

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For me, darkness represents grief and horror. Light counters this with brilliance, enlightenment and spirituality.

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These are my original lyrics for my song “Beside Me Always.”

These are the original lyrics for my song “Beside Me Always.”

My journey of songwriting began when I was very young. I wrote “Beside Me Always” when I was 17, but revised the lyrics after Jason died so I could read them at his funeral.

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My revised lyrics were:

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“I’ll search the shrouded darkness, wanting you and nothing less. Seems my whole life I’ve waited, in darkness that was fated.”

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Losing my child was quite different from losing my parents. He was ripped from my soul and my life was forever altered.

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I have countered how much I miss him physically with the image of light.

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He is not visible, yet he comforts and sustains me. He conquers my fear of darkness and with the fairly recent deaths of both my parents, I also feel that way about them, too.

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An obvious rhyme with light is sight. My lyrics of being “out of sight” explain the absence of body, but not love.

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I share some lyric lines below:

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From my song “Angel in the Sky.”

From my song “Somewhere I Can’t See.”

From my song “With Me”

From my song “My Shining Star”

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With these feelings, I want to share my response to a newly bereaved mother. I say, “Newly bereaved” because it has been almost two years since my friend, Sammi lost her beloved son. Her grief is almost as raw as the day he died because that is the nature of losing a child. Moving on is incomprehensible after two years.

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I don’t see moving on as leaving grief behind. For me personally, I’ve just moved with it to another place and after that it changed completely from the way it used to be. Healing simply means that I have scars from a horrific amputation that I never thought would stop bleeding.

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Dear Sammi,

I was thinking of you and wanted to share a link to another mother’s words about grief. Even though her son died by suicide, I thought that what she wrote might be something you could relate to.

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The fall always reminds me of my son’s death. It will be 22 years this coming Monday since he died. My mother was dying around this time last year and her first anniversary is coming up, as well.

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I keep creating music that helps me.

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Thinking of you,

Judy

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Thanks for sharing Judy. I absolutely can relate to this Mother. It angered me when I read the line that said she has been accused of wallowing in her grief. I know that we, as a group, scare most people because of what we represent.

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Hope all is well with you. I don’t care if its 22 years or 22 minutes…. for those of us in this club it will always feel like…. now. My thoughts will be with you on Monday, Judy. I know your beautiful boy will be with you as well.

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I like to think that they miss us as much as we miss them.

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Sammi, I know what you mean about that line of wallowing in grief. Even though I share a hopeful message of healing, I often feel like I’m viewed as someone who overly dwells upon grief.

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Thank you for caring about me and thinking of my death anniversary on Monday. The truth be told, I do not suffer like I used to anymore.

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A long time ago, I had feelings similar to ones you have expressed. Back then; I never imagined reaching this place, so I am sensitive to how this might be for you to hear.

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I have been on my grief journey for a long time. For years and years I suffered and very little changed after the first decade.

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When things shifted for me, it was miraculous and something I consider to be one of the greatest blessings in my life. Your message inspired me to write.

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I have so many memories where I live now. I remember my childhood and of bringing Jason to visit my parents.

I thank you very much for that because your words led me to gratefulness for my healing. Your last line below is what touched me.

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I like to think that they miss us as much as we miss them.

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I truly understand what you meant with those words.

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The day after Jason was buried, I was tortured because I worried about how much he missed me. I knew my feelings were irrational; I felt he couldn’t survive without me and he was dead. It made me crazy!

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It was because I had been his caregiver. I was his universe and he was mine.

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Jason was a sickly child with a severe congenital heart defect. Over the five years that he lived, there were many health crises. I was always very stressed over his poor health.

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He was breathless and weak. Because he was very small, I carried him most of the time because he became too tired when he walked. He had great difficulty eating and vomited every single day. I can still remember him sleeping across my chest up until the time he died – he was often very cold.

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Yet in spite of his illness, he was a happy child. I knew it was because I catered to his every wish.

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With his death, I was anguished because I felt that he still needed me to comfort him. I awoke at night hearing him crying for a blanket. I couldn’t imagine how he could be without his mommy. I kept imagining that he was freezing in his coffin.

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Even though I knew intellectually he couldn’t feel these things, sometimes I projected him being jealous of his siblings’ good health and ability to grow up. I saw Jason as being very angry for not having that opportunity.

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Jason was very jealous of his younger brother and received most of my attention.

These feelings spun through me for years and years – until I reached the place where I am now. Jason died and left my life initially. But with my healing, he returned.

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I don’t believe that Jason misses me anymore because I feel like he’s with me all the time. Sometimes at night I feel him whispering in my ear and lying upon me again.

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I consider him to be my angel. He is with me in a different way as a beautiful light in my life.

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I know that when I die someday, he will be right there waiting to guide me.

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I will always miss the life he never had, but I treasure what I learned from him. He was a special gift. He has inspired me to do many things that I would never have done if he hadn’t shined his light upon me.

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I sense that he cries when I cry. He wants me to heal and find joy in life. In fact, the encouragement I feel from his loving presence has healed me more than anything else.

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I pray that one day, you will feel AJ again close by in this way.

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Every moment of my life, I am grateful for my healing. I never take for granted how far I have traveled from the hell where my grief began.

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And Jason has been with me every step of the way shining his light.

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Posted in Healing and Hope | Tagged acoustic guitar, angel in the sky, beautiful music, child's death, comforting music, compassionate friends, composing, creativity, death, death of a child, expressing feelings, Friendship, grief, grief and healing, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, guitar, healing and grief, healing music, hope, hope for healing, hope of healing, inspiration, Judy Unger, loss, love, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, music and healing, musical comfort, my angel, My angel in the sky, optimism, original songs, performing, precious smile, singing, songwriting, sweet embrace, writing, You are my angel, You are my angel in the sky, You're my angel | 4 Comments

I CAN’T TELL YOU

Posted on September 28, 2014 by Judy

This past week I had a new floor installed and said goodbye to the black and white dining room floor that was one year younger than me. (I am visible in the mirror at the end of the hallway)

My post title is a lyric line from my song “Memory of Love.” That song fits perfectly into my life right now and I recently completed a brand new arrangement for it. I plan to write more about it soon but am excited to share it now because it goes so well with this story.

Link to my story and song “Memory of Love”

Story behind MEMORY OF LOVE-PART 1

My mother’s fade into dementia was the catalyst for my “rebirth.” She was my best friend and support system. When she became sick, everything shifted and suddenly I was the “adult.” This transition was initially shocking, but eventually I needed to take control of my own life.

I dedicated myself completely to keeping my mother comfortable while she declined mentally and physically. Yet even though I was a devoted daughter, I still carry a lot of guilt. The line of “I Can’t Tell You” is part of a longer phrase of:

I can’t tell you so instead I just pretend, it’s easier that way . . .

That line was written when I was filled with disbelief that my mother was more and more frequently making nonsensical statements due to the rapid onset of dementia. But this story is not about that. It is related to how until my mother passed away at the age of 88, I was unable to share with her that I did not faithfully observe any of the religious rules that were sacred to her. I often felt compelled to lie about it because it was so uncomfortable for me.

The coop where I’m now living was built in 1960; I was one year old when my parents moved there.

I love what I have gained through hypnotherapy and appreciate the tremendous progress I’ve made. Every “baby step” is something I celebrate.

For most of my life, I wasn’t able to separate my own beliefs from my parents. I’ve had great difficulty speaking up for myself. In some ways, that sounds ironic because I was an excellent advocate for my children and parents (while they were alive.) I can express myself through singing songs with heartfelt lyrics, but in many other situations I’ve held back my true thoughts and deemed my own feelings to be less important. Wanting to be “loved” by doing the “right” thing came with a very high price for me.

When I moved back to my childhood home two years ago, I never could decide what colors to use with the black and white floor.

When I moved back to my childhood home two years ago, I never could decide what colors would go well with the black and white floor.

At my last hypnotherapy session, I opened up to talk about the guilt I’ve carried for many years over disappointing my mother because I wasn’t an observant Jew like she was.

I told my hypnotherapist, Connie, that it would be very uncomfortable for me to even write about this subject on my blog. I felt ashamed and didn’t want any of my religious friends or family members to be disappointed in me.

Our wonderful session actually led to a lot of inner exploration that I found to be very helpful. Connie pointed out to me that I wasn’t alone with my feelings; people from other religions carried guilt, too.

I even have a picture of my childhood dog, Teddy, enjoying that floor.

I was tempted to write a Princess story using metaphors. My last Princess parable ended with her triumphing over the Dark Witch of guilt.

I don’t want the “Dark Witch” to torture me anymore and could write a great story that way. But instead I left our session and decided I could write my honest feelings without metaphors.

The installation of the new floor ended up taking two days because the kitchen needed a new sub-floor.

It has been exactly two years since I moved from a large home that I lived in for 18 years. I left my husband after a long marriage; all three of my children lived with me in my 2 bedroom coop for some of that time. Currently, my two sons are still with me.

I stepped into the unknown and made the decision to live in this place where I grew up. My father had just died and my mother was in a nursing home. It belonged to my two brothers and I; instead of selling it, I paid my brothers their share and moved in. It certainly was an affordable option and was only two blocks from my youngest son’s school.

I have plenty of memories of growing up in this coop where I now live.

I can look out at my overgrown patio and see myself engaged in a lively Ping-Pong game with my brother. I easily remember how my heart would pound when I hid in the bushes during a serious game of hide-and-seek. I pass those bushes every time I walk to my car. Whenever I look at my old bedroom, I can picture the tents I used to invent by using bed sheets and clothespins. Sweet memories happen when I allow them.

Lately I feel very disconnected from my past, almost like a person with amnesia. I’ve tried to discard any past memories that are painful and my new existence is quite different from what I ever imagined.

The memories that surround me and I avoid, involve my mother preparing for the many Jewish holidays she was passionate about. It isn’t because those memories aren’t beautiful – but they trigger my guilty feelings.

This is such a change because I used to hold tightly onto memories. Memories of love sustained me but unfortunately, guilt has become a barrier to this. And guilt is a companion to resentment.

For most of my life, I have spent a lot of energy worrying about disappointing other people. This left me with a lot of subconscious resentment and confusion. My ultimate guilty act was when I shocked my husband and ended our marriage after 30 years.

Freedom to express myself is terrifying but at the same time a necessary basis for my new life.

Beliefs are not concrete and everyone has their own. Here’s one of my beliefs: In order to make way for something new, sometimes it is necessary to experience some discomfort first.

If ever there was anything symbolic in my life, it was my decision this past week to replace the 54-year-old floor in my coop. When I was an infant, I crawled upon that floor. So did all four of my children whenever they visited their grandparents.

That floor always reminded me of a 60’s diner – I never liked the black and white linoleum. More than anything, I’ve often felt that black and white represented the extreme thinking I was raised with.

I loved my mother and considered her my best friend. I was her universe and she lived to hear about everything going on in my life. But I was careful about what I shared with her.

As a young girl, one day I discovered that I was not exactly like my mother. It was such a painful realization.

My mother was a very observant Jew and ruled our household. My father followed her and my brothers and I were raised with strict adherence to Conservative Judaism. We were not Orthodox – yet, my mother was unwavering in the laws she chose to follow. There was a “right way” to do things and anything else was bad and “wrong.”

I want to share an example of a moment that represented my awareness that something didn’t quite work for me. I had never even realized it until then.

I was about 14 and a counselor-in-training for a day camp at our temple. The table was set for a special meal, but first a blessing needed to be said. A young camper was sneaking bites when he wasn’t supposed to. I tapped him gently and told him something I had heard many times before from my mother. I said, “God is going to punish you for that.”

A little while later, I was taken aside by the head counselor. She said, “What did you say to David? He is hysterical and says that you said God is going to punish him!”

At that moment, I began to think about what simply had sprouted from my mouth. It was very unpleasant and I was ashamed at myself for what I had said.

I do not dislike my religion. I shared as much as I could with my children while they were growing up; they even complained to me about it. But the rituals and observance, which brought my mother so much comfort hasn’t been something I’ve wanted to deeply embrace.

Many years ago, there was a time when my middle brother confessed that he had gone to work on the second day of an important Jewish holiday.

My mother screamed and screamed at him, until my brother broke down crying. He was in his 20’s at that time and he promised her he would never do it again. It was a very traumatic thing for me to have witnessed. My brother did not keep his promise, but unfortunately that memory is imprinted in my mind.

After seeing how my mother screamed at my brother, I was terrified of disappointing her – understandably. So I lied to her about what I was doing on important Jewish holidays. It was easier than telling her the truth.

But there was a time when I found incredible courage.

When I was in my mid-twenties, I sought out therapy to help me deal with my depression and confusion. My parents attended a session with me and I expressed my feelings about many things. I told them that moving forward I was going to do things differently. I would no longer attend the same temple services with them every year and didn’t want my mother to buy me kosher meat anymore.

Many years later, my mother was very angry that I scheduled my 5-year-old son, Jason’s heart surgery the day before Yom Kippur, a major Jewish holiday. I had very few options besides that date and went ahead with it. Jason died following that surgery, which was a horrible outcome.

I wish I had covered things because there was a lot of dust everywhere.

I hate feeling guilty about anything. Intellectually, I know that I am entitled to make choices about how I want to live my life.

That was why it was so interesting how I planned to put in a new floor last week. The day that the installer gave me was Thursday. It wasn’t until the day before that I learned it fell on the Jewish New Year.

It was very dusty as the workmen demolished concrete in my kitchen. My eyes didn’t like the dust, even though I was in my bedroom with the door closed. I heard my mother telling me that what I was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong. I didn’t feel well at all.

This was a perfect opportunity for me to leave black and white behind. I’m a 54 (soon to be 55) year-old woman who has begun a new life. I don’t want to dwell on sadness from my past anymore, nor am I planning for a future of fame and fortune.

I am very pleased with my new floor. It has many subtle variations of grays and browns. It is neutral and soothing for me.

I did brighten up this photo a bit. I noticed that the lighting affects the color. In the kitchen with fluorescent lighting, the floor appears to be a different color!

When I moved in, I was very excited to refinish the hardwood floors in the other areas of this coop. For 50 years those floors were hiding under carpeting and it was beautiful to see them revealed. My parents preferred carpet to hardwood, but I am enjoying this alternate floor. It’s my preference.

That old black and white dining room floor worked well for my parents but now I get to choose what I want and that includes religion, too.

I’ve noticed that when I acknowledge guilty feelings – it becomes easier to let them go. With that release, suddenly the beautiful memories filled with love reappear.

But most of all, I want to move forward to create new memories.

In this picture, I am celebrating with my daughter who turned 21 two weeks ago. I am so proud of her and my two sons. I’ve had the pleasure of watching all three of my children grow and develop into beautiful humans right in front of my eyes. My children mean everything to me.

In two weeks, it will be the first anniversary of my mother’s death. Even though I don’t want to remember her dying moments, my subconscious continues to play them for me.

The seasonal change from summer to fall has begun and that always reminds me of Jason’s death. It has been many years now and I have healed from the agony I used to suffer with.

I have a 7-inch scar from when Jason was born by emergency C-section in 1987.

The strangest thing happens for me with that scar. I never notice it except that sometimes it itches like crazy. It happened today and I don’t think it’s just a random thing. It strangely happens whenever an anniversary of the heart is approaching.

That is my grief.

It is an itch – I can mindlessly scratch it, but it doesn’t bring relief – it just bothers me more. I can’t ignore it.

If I concentrate hard, it stops itching. I think about how much I will always love him.

I’ll never forget Jason; he is my angel.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2014. 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.