myjourneysinsight

I WAS BLESSED TO BE HEALED-PART 1

Posted on November 26, 2013 by Judy

Transcription of the above card, which I received after my son died:

Dear Judy,

I can’t find the words to express my sorrow for your loss. I’m going to temple tonight and hope that somehow it will help me to understand how something like this can happen, particularly to a kind, loving person like you.

You helped me get through a very tough time and I hope you will let me reciprocate.

Your friend, Linda

One of the few pictures I have with my dear friend, Linda Shaff. This was taken at a tennis luncheon. I’m holding my daughter who was born one year after the death of my five-year-old son, Jason.

– In memory of Linda

I spoke these words at the funeral for my good friend Linda. I found these notes in Jason’s memory box, which I opened 20 years after his death.

I spoke these words at the funeral for my good friend Linda. I found these notes (on yellow paper) in Jason’s memory box, which I opened 20 years after his death.

This story is about healing and grief – as many of my stories are.

My post title is a line of lyrics from my song “Somewhere I Can’t See.” The entire line goes: “I was blessed to be healed; your love filled my heart.”

–

I had originally thought to name this post “Grief Was Like Night,” which is a lyric line from my most recent song “Rainbow Through My Tears.” The entire line goes: Grief was like night, without an end in sight.” I changed my mind because it sounded too depressing and I wanted this story to be uplifting.

When I was grieving the death of my child, sometimes it was impossible to imagine feeling better. But I always held on to hope of healing.

–

It has been twenty-one years since my child died and I consider myself healed from grief over his death. That is a great blessing for me.

These are my actual scrawled lyrics “in progress,” as I wrote my newest song “Rainbow Through My Tears.” I tried to stay away from dark and depressing lyrics, which explains the crossed out words.

These are my actual scrawled lyrics “in progress” while writing my newest song “Rainbow Through My Tears.” I tried to stay away from dark and depressing lyrics, which explains the crossed out words.

A few weeks ago, I was touched by something from my past that helped to reinforce my message; healing from grief is possible.

The timing was very helpful for me because I was finding myself frustrated. I had spent a great deal of energy trying to convince two fellow bloggers that they had it within their power to feel better.

Bitterness and discouragement about healing was poison to their soul.

My messages were unrelenting and it was clear to me that I was becoming annoying. I began to feel concerned that I was simply aggravating their pain and burdening them. Still, I could not find a way to hold myself back.

I began to wonder what my motive was. My mother had recently died, and I had plenty of my own feelings to deal with.

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Were there other people out there that had healed from unbearable grief? Perhaps it was so rare that my offer of hope to others was completely unrealistic.

But then along came this magnificent story.

It started with a friend request on Facebook.

I didn’t recognize his name and was ready to delete it. But then I stopped.

I knew that last name.

I accepted the request and went to his page. He was a beloved teacher and I was teary looking at his pictures.

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“Posttraumatic Stress”

When I was driving on the same freeway I had used to visit my mom at her nursing home – I kept seeing flashes of her dying eyes. As soon as I pushed the awful image away, then my father’s dead face appeared – and after that, Jason’s.

Soon it was going to be Halloween. I hadn’t forgotten how I buried Jason only three weeks before that holiday. All of this was definitely post traumatic stress.

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I took a deep breath and allowed love to fill my heart. My song lyrics spoke to me with comfort. The images faded away and were replaced with beautiful ones filled with love.

But long ago, I had another experience of watching someone I loved die.

There was Linda.

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She was so much more –

When I began my blog, I wrote a story about tennis and how much that wonderful sport added to my life. I had a good friend and tennis partner who had died; her name was Linda.

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Linda fought ovarian cancer for eleven years. When the cancer invaded her liver, she was facing a losing battle. I had never seen jaundice before and it was shocking to see her glowing yellow skin.

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As Linda’s death grew closer, it was so hard seeing her in pain. She couldn’t eat, sit comfortably or lie down.

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There is never a good time

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On one of my last visits, I met Linda’s mother for the first time. Her mother confided to me that it was too much for her to bear, to see her daughter die. She wailed, “I cannot watch this any longer. I must leave tonight. She is crying for me to stay, but I can’t do it!”

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It was one of the most horrible situations I had ever witnessed.

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I felt awful for both of them: The dying daughter crying for her mommy, and a mother who could not bear to see her child die.

– Todd as a child

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Linda had a husband and teenage son. Through the long course of her illness, it had taken a toll upon her child. She shared with me that he had gotten into trouble.

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Linda knew her illness had deeply affected him and she remained optimistic that it would pass.

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The common cliches

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The day after Linda’s mother flew home, I called Linda’s husband. Her husband’s voice cracked with emotion and exhaustion as he told me she still clung to life.

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I decided to face my fear. I asked him if I could visit her again.

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He said that no visitors were allowed anymore. But then he sighed and said it would be okay.

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He added, “You must know that Linda is very close to death now and totally unresponsive.”

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My heart was pounding when I arrived at the house. Her husband answered the door with bleary eyes; he pointed to where she was. There was a hospital bed in the corner.

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I tiptoed into the dimly lit room . . .

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My friend was skeletal and her teeth were tightly clenched. Yet, I could see her eyes were locked upon mine. She knew who I was, without a doubt.

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I touched her arm and remained quiet as I looked into her deep eyes. I spoke very softly into her ear.

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I gently told her that I would look after her mother. As a bereaved mother, I was sensitive to the loss of a child – Linda could count on me. I promised Linda over and over the ways that I would help her mother. I knew Linda did not want her mom to be tormented because she had fled her daughter’s deathbed.

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It turned out that Linda was not unresponsive.

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Somehow she unclenched her teeth and with a whisper she said, “Thank you.” My heart ached with her soft words.

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I left her bedside and felt inspired. I was so glad I was able to see my friend before she died so that I could reassure and comfort her.

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She died that night.

–

At Linda’s funeral, I played my guitar and sang the same song I wrote for my dead child: “Beside Me Always.” I also spoke and recently found my handwritten notes for that eulogy.

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I kept my promise to Linda.

Every year, I called her mother on Linda’s birthday and death day. Our conversations were beautiful; Linda’s mother was also interested in my life. She offered me support during a time where I faced difficult challenges with my own children. Something very special developed between us over those years we were in touch and I considered her a good friend.

I was always especially eager to hear how Linda’s son was doing. After all, Linda was often so worried about him because she knew how affected he was by her illness.

His name was Todd.

–

Todd with his beloved grandma.

The first year after her death he began his first year of college. It was a struggle and I believe he had to drop out because grief had deeply impacted him.

But then a few years later, I was so heartened to hear from Linda’s mother how things had turned out. Todd had gone back to school and become a teacher. I thought how proud Linda would have been!

It was perhaps ten years later, when Linda’s father died and her mother became a widow. A few years after that, I called on Linda’s birthday and was saddened when I heard a recording; the phone number was no longer in service. I mailed a card instead and it came back undeliverable. I let a few years go by and wondered. In my heart, I knew that perhaps she was ill or had died.

I planned to keep my promise to Linda and one day I decided to find out where she might have moved to. The only way to do that would be to ask Linda’s husband.

I wasn’t sure if he still lived at the same address. I drove to his house and planned to leave a note if no one answered. But on that day, her husband answered the door.

–

After a moment, he recognized me. His handshake was firm and warm. He said it had been at least eight years since any of Linda’s friends had contacted him.

He told me that Linda’s mother had died.

In the short time I stood there, he brought me up to date. He told me their son was a math teacher living up north and that they spoke practically every day. They were close again after a period of estrangement.

That was the end of a story I wrote two years ago.

–

This story is continued with this link:

#387 I WAS BLESSED TO BE HEALED – PART 2

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© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2013. 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, cancer and dying, death, death of a friend, facing the end, friend dying, friend's death, Friendship, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, guitar, inspiration, Judy Unger, Linda Shaff, loss, loss of a friend, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother's grief, Music, original songs, ovarian cancer, performing, Revlon Run-Walk, singing, songwriting, Tennis, tennis friend, tennis friendship, terminal illness, Todd Shaff, women's doubles | 7 Comments

I LIVED WEARING A BLINDFOLD

Posted on November 19, 2013 by Judy

My bedroom (and my office now). I think of this room as “my cocoon.”

Recently, I wrote new lyrics for an old song named “This Song Unsung. I renamed it “My Song Unsung.”

That song carries two lines of lyrics that are profound for me. They are:

“I lived wearing a blindfold” and “For years, I made no sound”

Living with a blindfold and making no sound allowed me to stay married for 31 years with an empty relationship.

I was blind to things that upset me and chose to avoid conflict as much as possible.

And for years I truly made no sound, and that was not simply about being unable to sing. It was about the fact that I did not speak my true feelings at all. I kept quiet and suppressed all of my anger. There were few tears, arguments or expression of disappointment. I did not acknowledge the truth.

When I wrote “This Song Unsung” at the age of 17, I was dreaming of romantic love. It wasn’t for any particular person. Another beautiful lyric line from that song was, “He touched me without an embrace.”

Remembering those words caused me sadness, so I eliminated them on my new version.

In my former life, I called my existence “Zombieland.” I was truly like a walking dead person. My existence revolved around pleasing as many people as possible. But I failed miserably with this endeavor, because my husband was deeply unhappy. We barely touched each other.

I dreaded hearing his car enter the garage – all peacefulness within me scattered with the sound of his voice.

With all the energy I expended to take care of so many people, I suffered knowing I was a failure as a wife. My husband was such an unhappy man. He was especially unhappy with the way I took care of the household.

I began to give up, which made things worse.

In my heart, I knew I wasn’t a failure, but it didn’t change the fact that my existence was empty and lonely.

–

my living room that my oldest son (23) loves. When he first moved in he was deeply depressed.

I share a picture of my rearranged living room that my oldest son (23) loves.

I arrived at George’s guesthouse. I was tired and bleary.

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I made sure to park carefully. The week before, I had whacked the curb and broke a plastic shield above the tire. I was very lucky that I hadn’t caused more damage.

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Still it had been very inconvenient. I couldn’t drive too well with it dragging on my tire. George helped tape it up until I was able to get to a mechanic to affix it better and order a new part. But it had come down and I had to call for roadside assistance to come help me a few days later.

At home, I had a broken dishwasher and my kitchen was completely cluttered. Now that I had moved my office into my bedroom, my son had completely spread out in the living room. It had cost several hundred dollars to move my modem and to wire the cable for him (his video game system required it), but it was much better for me as far as concentration went.

A few days after this change in my small apartment, my twenty-year-old daughter announced that she planned to move out the following month. I wished I had known sooner before rearranging so much furniture! I was still processing what this meant, but gave her my support and encouragement. It was a brave thing for her to do this. At the same time, it felt like one of those pivotal “goodbye” moments. I was biting my lip and trembling, while smiling on the outside.

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For several weeks, I had spent a great deal of my time doing tax work related to my divorce. My “soon to be ex-husband” had hired a new lawyer and I was sent a subpoena requiring it. It depressed me. I didn’t want to know how much I was spending to run my household now that I had all three of my large children living in a two-bedroom apartment. None of these stressors in my life were major problems. I stayed as positive as possible and put on my blindfold!

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I loved my children dearly, but I was definitely frazzled.

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In this picture from 19 years ago, I’m holding my daughter and my oldest “surviving” son is next to us. I am sitting on the same bed where I now sleep, in my parents’ old bedroom.

I was ready to create new music with George. I smiled as I walked in carrying my guitar.

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“So I take it we’re working on something new?” he said.

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I nodded. “George, I need to – I’m sure it will help me feel better.”

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I shared with George how much I appreciated how he had helped me with “My Song Unsung.” I brought with me recordings of the vocal and guitar tracks, which I had recorded the week before.

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George put the files into the arrangement and we both listened. He smiled and sighed at the special parts we both loved.

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He said, “Well, Jude, you nailed this one. Whatever you did on this – I want you to do it on all your songs!

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It felt so great to take in his words.

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I told him that since he had helped me finish “My Song Unsung” perhaps it would work again with another unfinished song. It was called, “A Rainbow Through My Tears.”

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I loved the title of it. I didn’t usually name my songs before I recorded them, but this one definitely had a name.

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I told George that I had heard this song three months earlier, but it didn’t grab me. Actually, the verses were sweet, but the chorus didn’t touch me at all.

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I gently fingerpicked the chords to show him and he began to softly tinkle on his piano. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of this new song as the music floated through the room. How could I have thought this song wasn’t worthy?

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Now I felt inspired by God again and a smile lit up my face. I couldn’t wait to finish this new song with him over the next few weeks. The lyrics were wonderful and really expressed everything I was feeling.

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Even if I couldn’t see the rainbow, it was there. When I couldn’t see it, it was because I was suppressing my feelings.

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I planned to write more to express them – and to listen more to Melody.

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I still take walks near my old high school whenever possible. But my foggy vision often depresses me.

Remembering how I used to wear a blindfold, triggered many unpleasant memories.

I began to feel as if the fogginess in my vision (due to PVD) wasn’t a curse to remind me of my past. I wished I had the clarity of mind to overcome the intense discouragement that clouded my precious day.

I began to miss Melody. She was always there when I needed her. I remembered how she had rescued me from a deadened existence.

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Melody was very worried about the Princess. The Princess had told Melody that she would not write about the Princess anymore. She wanted to be an ordinary woman, capable of living happily with her newfound freedom.

Melody knew it was because the Princess decided her life was not a fairytale and didn’t want to retreat into a fantasyland.

Yet even though the Princess proclaimed she was stronger than ever, now she was struggling to keep her tears inside. Her heart had become heavy and dark.

Melody waited patiently and stayed close to the Princess. She wove her magic as much as she could, but the Princess was busy and not open to hearing any new melodies.

God told Melody to bless the Princess with a new song to help her.

Melody knew the Princess had received the song, because she heard all the words instantly. It was always that way when the song was a special gift.

But the Princess would not sing this special song, nor allow it into her heart.

Melody wasn’t sure what to do. The Princess did not feel she deserved to be happy because her world was gray and foggy. Imagining a rainbow was just not possible for her.

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Melody in my eye

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Long before Melody had become a guardian angel for the Princess, the Princess survived because of her blindfold. In addition, the Princess wore thick and heavy armor. It had protected the Princess for many years.

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But the armor was becoming heavier and heavier for the Princess. Inside, she was weak and depleted because she rarely took it off. All the constant assault upon her had battered her heart and she was tired.

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When God first sent Melody to touch the Princess, the Princess felt her heart beating with excitement and joy. It was something she hadn’t felt for such a long time. Melody’s comfort and magic caused the Princess to radiate passion and rejuvenated her soul.

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The Princess remembered how when she was young she didn’t need to wear such heavy armor. On several occasions, the Princess decided to lift the armor off to peak around her. She wanted to shine again.

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But each and every time, she became wounded. The Princess decided she would bear the pain; it was preferable to the armor. It was because Melody comforted her and gave her strength.

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One day, she was especially joyful. The Dragon came home angry as he usually was.

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Without her armor, she could see more clearly. She realized the Dragon did not see her at all. She was invisible to him and only represented disappointment.

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The Dragon never told her anything gentle or kind. He did thank her for the many chores she fulfilled, but usually there was another list of things she had done wrong.

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What upset her most was that the Dragon’s voice was loud and angry when he spoke to their offspring.

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The Princess desperately wanted to use her voice, but it was only a whisper. How could this have happened to her? Was this the way she was supposed to live for the rest of her life?

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The Princess decided she did not want to live this way anymore. She begged Melody to help her. What could she do to help herself?

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The answer came so easily. She only needed to listen carefully to the music.

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Audio link below to share the beauty of a song in progress:

A RAINBOW THROUGH MY TEARS – Midi recording

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Tagged A Rainbow Through My Tears, adjusting to divorce, arranging music, avoiding conflict, composing, composing music, coping with divorce, creativity, escape through music, facing divorce after a long marriage, gray divorce, guitar, healing music, impending divorce, inspiration, living with a blindfold, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Melody the fairy, Music, music as therapy, original songs, poor communication, Princess and the Dragon, princess metaphors, separation, singing, songwriting, suppressing feelings, suppressing tears, the princess and the dragon, writing | 2 Comments

MY SONG UNSUNG-PART 1

Posted on November 18, 2013 by Judy

Click the blue link below to play audio:

My Song Unsung Arrangement 2013

My Song Unsung Piano Melody

My Song Unsung Home Recording 5-26-18

I really have played my guitar on countless shores. But I stopped for 30 years.

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MY SONG UNSUNG

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I’ve played my songs on countless shores

in quiet shade of sycamores

All my pain was overcome

by heart-torn lyric and a strum

When I was young

I wrote my song unsung

Experience, it felt so cold

but music was my friend

I lived wearing a blindfold

Yet with lyrics I didn’t pretend

Through the years, when life was hard

my heart became numb and scarred

All my joy had gone away

and with sadness I couldn’t play

I was still young

I left my song unsung

Loneliness had left a hole

for years I made no sound

‘til music came to soothe my soul

and to turn my life around

Dreams were fuel that kept me strong

My heart was healed because of song

I learned that I could sing and then

I discovered joy again

I found that I had faith inside

my songs returned; they had not died

And though I was no longer young

Look what my music had brung

I sang my song unsung

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Speaking about My Song Unsung 11/10/13

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Transcription of audio excerpt above, taken from a recent performance on 11-10-2013.

My songs are a musical of my life. I’m going to start out with the first song; it’s the most recent one that I’ve arranged.

Arranging songs is something that gives me so much pleasure. It’s an amazing experience after not doing music for 30 years to hear the seeds that I started when I was young, grow into these beautiful compositions.

So the song I’m going to sing now is something I wrote when I was 17. It was named “This Song Unsung.” And like many of my songs it had prophetic lyrics such as, “I lived wearing a blindfold.” That was something that for many years I did do. How would I know that when I was 17? I guess I started young.

When I wrote the song, it was very short and romantic. Then in 2010 when I first began to rediscover my songs, I added to it with a very hopeful message of continuing to follow that romance with my marriage and turning my life into a love song. But it didn’t happen, unfortunately. So I had to rewrite my song and I decided to just tell my story with it.

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This is a watercolor painting from college of sycamores. I used it as part of a memorial for my dead child, Jason, so it carries a lot of meaning for me.

This is a watercolor painting I did while in college of sycamore trees. I used it as part of a memorial for my dead child, Jason, so it carries a lot of meaning for me.

A few months ago my arranger, George, told me that he would no longer create instrumentals anymore with me. At first, I was devastated. But he explained that it drained his creative energy to follow my predetermined melody. He only wanted to arrange songs and he was forcing me to go in that direction.

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He said, “Jude, instrumentals are a cop-out. Use your voice! It brings much more to a song than an instrumental melody line.”

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So I continued working with George to create new versions of older arrangements instead. I accepted his decision and appreciated those new creations that I might not have done otherwise. I was still inspired and soothed, but it certainly didn’t compare to composing new music.

For some reason though, I couldn’t compose anything new. My last song was named “Somewhere I Can’t See.” Ironically, I was still living through that song and could not move forward.

It was clear to me that I was definitely suffering from a creative block without any new music to help me. The IV to my soul was pulled out as I coped with stressors in my life.

Music was my medicine. There was nothing in the world like creating and birthing a new song.

I saw it as a gift from God, whenever a song came into my life.

–

In 2011, I was playing my guitar again in the shade of sycamores.

I came into George’s guesthouse and announced that I wished I could arrange a very old song I had composed when I was 17. But I didn’t think I was ready to.

The song was named “This Song Unsung.” I wrote it as a romantic ballad 36 years earlier and it was rather short and undeveloped. But the chords were beautiful.

Three years earlier, I revised the lyrics and renamed the song, “Her Song Unsung.” George had arranged it with a drum track that I didn’t care for. The revised lyrics carried a hopeful and upbeat message. It was that as a result of music I found joy and my marriage was revitalized.

“Her Song Unsung” ended with the line that “her life became her love song.”

Unfortunately that hadn’t happened. I had separated from my husband and could not sing those lyrics anymore. The song was left unsung.

Now I wanted to create a new arrangement with a different sound. But for over a year, no new lyrics came to inspire me. I wanted to get away from lyrics in third person, just as I had with Music From Her Heart.

I told George that I was about to give up on this particular “song seed.”

George’s eyes were bright with excitement. He said, “Jude, it doesn’t matter that you don’t have lyrics. Let’s work with what you do have and it will develop.”

He began by playing a few chords on his piano. The new chords were haunting and touched me. Suddenly, the healing property of music began to infuse my soul with excitement.

Then he said, “On each chorus you should repeat the line “my song unsung.” I loved his suggestion and was completely inspired again.

I started to write new lyrics as George began recording the instrument tracks. I read the new lyrics aloud to him and asked for his feedback. The hardest part was to find gentle words to tell my story. There really was no gentle way to explain that I had left my husband because of music.

Late at night, it came to me. I decided to eliminate the romantic lines and love story completely.

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My Song Unsung was about the fact that I didn’t sing from the time I was twenty until the age of fifty-four. Singing my song again after so many years was such a beautiful thing.

Once again, the prophecy of my song amazed me. Why had I named it this song unsung?

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Could I have ever imagined as a young girl that I would sing this song again when I was 54?

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Below is a link to the story and recording of “Her Song Unsung.” My voice has considerably improved since that time.

STORY ABOUT HER SONG UNSUNG

And I share my cassette recording of “This Song Unsung” from 1980:

THIS SONG UNSUNG-Recording from 1980 by Judy Unger

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This picture is from my very first solo performance at Kulak's Woodshed last week.

This picture is from my very first solo performance of My Song Unsung last week.

Tagged acoustic guitar, arranging music, composing, composing music, coping with divorce, creativity, escape through music, guitar, healing music, Her Song Unsung, inspiration, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, music and healing, music arrangements, music as therapy, My Song Unsung, original songs, performing, Rediscovering music, singing, Song Unsung, songwriting, This Song Unsung | 5 Comments

DO NOT SUCCUMB-PART 2

Posted on November 16, 2013 by Judy

Music is God’s gift to help me.

This post title is a line of lyrics from my song “Hang On. Below is link to the story and song:

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Story behind HANG ON-PART 1–

This post title is a line of lyrics from my song “Hang On.” It was interesting for me that I wrote Part One with the intention to follow it quickly with Part Two. But that didn’t happen because my mother died not long afterward.

Once again, I was surprised when a woman I play tennis with asked me the same question a week later. She said, “Judy, how does it feel to be an adult orphan?

When I answered her, I launched into a longer explanation than I expected. I said:

“First off, an orphan is reserved for children because it represents the absence of love, security and support that parents provide. My situation was completely reversed. As my parents became old and frail, eventually they were like my children. They relied on me for security and support. Now they are gone and I have an empty nest; I set them free to fly to God.

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It was a beautiful thing that I could do that for them!

Sometimes I miss the deep love I received from my parents. No one loves us like our mother and father. But I feel them with me and just because they’ve died, I still feel important and valuable. Their love hasn’t died!”

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I have many happy memories of vacations. In this picture, I am with my mother and older brother, Norm.

Although my mother did indeed succumb to pneumonia and die, I suffered more with grief when she was first diagnosed with dementia. The loss of her ability to communicate with me changed the course of my life in a huge way. I truly lost my best friend.

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I have been struggling with many challenges lately. Everything seems to be more difficult for me because of my annoying eyesight due to PVD (Posterior Vitreous Detachment). Because of it, I have even more empathy for grieving people.

Offering hope and inspiration is a beautiful thing, but when a person is suffering with agonizing grief – the thought of healing is unbelievable. I still suffer with discomfort in my eyes every moment of my day. When I am told that it will get better someday in the future – I want to believe that.

Unfortunately, knowing it might go away someday doesn’t really take away my pain.

I miss seeing clearly. My eyes often bother me. They are blurry or foggy and I use eye drops constantly to alleviate the dryness. But when I hear music, I forget about everything else.

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The blessing of music in my life has made a huge difference for me. Because of it, my heart is joyful and light.

I find it ironic that I named my blog “My Journey’s Insight.” I don’t want what was clearly in my sight when my journey began to be affected by my eyesight issues.

My current perspective is one where I see myself climbing over every challenge I might face. I am relieved that I am able to do so many things despite my eye issues. I love my life.

For a few months before my mother died, I was very busy illustrating. I had thought my art career was over, and it was wonderful to have illustration work coming my way again. But music is most definitely my passion.

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Here are the ways that music fills my life:

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I play my guitar late at night and sing softly so I won’t bother my children.

I record song vocals (or guitar) three times a week.

I edit those vocals to add to my arrangements.

I create new arrangements weekly by working with my arranger.

I write a new song whenever it comes to me.

I am starting to perform more regularly.

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Hang On 9-23 snap 9

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For me, songwriting is very mysterious. Although I can “craft” song lyrics, it isn’t something I enjoy doing. I prefer to wait for inspiration. I often believe my songs are handed to me as a gift.

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Every song of mine has healing properties.

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When a song is born, it completely interrupts my existence. It emerges and overwhelms me with both emotion and relief.

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I have composed over forty songs now. If I never wrote another song, it would be fine for me. My song garden is so huge at this moment that I am barely able to keep up with all the vocal lines I am currently editing.

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Arranging my songs has been a fascinating and rewarding experience. My most recent arrangement for “Hang On” was quite special. The older arrangement felt rushed. Lyrics were very important for me; every word counted and this new arrangement was easier to sing.

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My arranger, George, grimaced every time I sang the word “succumb.” He shook his head and said, “Jude, you’ve got to find a replacement word for that one!”

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I smiled, but did not want to change it. Not only was it the perfect word that rhymed with “numb,” I also felt strength in being the songwriter and making final decisions. My song was about healing and I wasn’t going to give in to this lyric change. It expressed exactly the feeling I wanted for my song.

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Judy in the forest

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A week after my mother’s death, I decided to take a voice lesson with Kimberly Haynes. At our lesson, Kimberly told me she had studied voice without a break for many years. She thought my hiatus was good opportunity for me to absorb what I had learned.

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It was great to see her again. I had missed her and appreciated what a wonderful teacher she was. I explained to her that in hindsight – the fact that my mother was slowly dying made it hard for me to focus on my voice.

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But now I was not suffering with grief over my mother’s death and for that I was grateful. I told Kimberly that I was ready to move forward on my journey. I was going to perform more and asked her for some tips.

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I shared my excitement over the new “Hang On” arrangement. Then I told her, I had decided that I wanted to hire her to sing this particular song.

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Perhaps with her professional abilities, I would be able to do more with it than with my own voice.

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Kimberly was happy to do it. I gave her a recording and the lyrics. We planned to record the song at Darrin’s studio near my home soon.

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The day before Kimberly was set to record my song, I received a message from her that she needed to cancel.

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She wrote that she needed to attend a very important doctor appointment with her husband that day.

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It turned out that her husband’s melanoma cancer had returned. In an instant, her life became a crisis and they were hanging on. Kimberly and Brian had two young sons – the oldest was five years old.

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Every day, I read her blog. And prayed . . .

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Here is an excerpt from her blog:

Six years ago Brian was diagnosed with ocular melanoma. He quickly underwent surgery to remove a blueberry size tumor from his eye. From that day forward he has been blind in that eye. The following month, he had three radiation treatments targeting the margin of the tumor. He recovered quickly with determination and a fierce will to be well. There is no further treatment at this point for this particular disease.

Sadly, the data about this disease paints a very bleak picture. Generally, metastasis moves to the liver. We received news last Thursday that the melanoma has now begun to show signs in Brian’s liver with one large lesion and several smaller ones….

We are devastated and currently barely functional. We are both in intense pain and shock.

Below is a link to Kimberly’s blog:

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kimberlyhaynes

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