myjourneysinsight

I WAS BLESSED TO BE HEALED-PART 2

Posted on November 27, 2013 by Judy

Link to Part 1 of this story:

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I looked at the friend request and I realized I knew the last name. Was it possible? Then it hit me – it was the same last name as my friend that had died over 15 years ago.

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The first name was Todd. It was Linda’s son!

I received my first message from him that night.

Hello Judy,

So Monday evening I was watching Forrest Gump on Netflix. I saw it with mom in the theatre one evening way back when. Becoming all nostalgic and such, I decided to Google mom’s name. Your lovely story came up, and I just had to contact you. Mom loved you so much. How are you? How is life?

Hi Todd,

It took a few seconds for your name to register – and then like a light bulb, it came to me in a burst. You’re Linda’s son!!!! I am so happy to hear from you and your mom is smiling up in heaven at this moment.

When you’re mom was dying, I made a promise to her that I would look after your grandma. I called your grandma and grandpa while they were still alive every year on your mom’s birthday and death day. I was sad when my cards came back undeliverable and the phone number stopped working.

And that was why I stopped off at your old house and knocked on the door. Your dad answered and was very nice. The best part was when he told me how well you were doing. It gave me such a smile because I knew you were going to be fine. I just know your mom knew that too, all those years ago.

It was tragic that she died so young. She really loved life and desperately wanted to live. I’m also sorry about the loss of your grandparents.

Todd, my personal story has been amazing the last four years. And some of it ties in with your mom and my closeness to her. You know I spoke at her funeral and performed one of my original songs named “Beside Me Always.”

Well after not playing my guitar much for 30 years, I decided to play again four years ago. My own mother was seriously ill and I was very down. A good friend recommended I play my guitar again and I did. It really ended up changing my whole life!

I’ve written a lot about my rediscovery of music and joy on my blog – that’s where I wrote about your mom. I have recorded an audiobook and songs that I plan to release in a few months. The name of my audiobook is “Beside Me Always,” which is the same song I played at your mom’s funeral.

My own mom died less than two weeks ago. She was 88 and lived a good life. I’ve missed her terribly because she had dementia for many years. You might have known that I had a son who died while I knew your mom. Your mom was so caring when I was dealing with that.

Sorry if I’ve written a lot! I’m really excited to see that you found your calling as a teacher.

Take care, Judy

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Hello Judy,

I am so sorry to hear about your mother. My love and prayers go with you, your family and your mother.

To bring you up to speed, I live in Santa Cruz now. This is my 10th year teaching 7th and 8th grade math. Who knew? I love my career; it is truly my life’s honor and passion to educate and hopefully inspire every now and again. I do lots of tutoring kids in the afternoon to help make ends meet, and of course keeping busy grading papers.

I play guitar, as well. However, music became a very personal thing for me. I used to jam all the time with buddies and even in front of others occasionally. Now, it is my little secret when nobody is around. I am glad that you are still playing frequently. That is lovely.

I am single, but have a dog; a 155 pound St Bernard to be specific. Named him Bubba. Needless to say he brings much love (and slime) into my life.

I picked up surfing and running on the beach. For some reason, it is where I always feel closest to those I have loved and lost. Beach life great, I’m glad I found it and feel blessed to live so close to where water meets land.

You may have known that I was a bit wild during the teenage years and after mom passed, but I settled down. I believe it helped give me perspective, and may help relate to children.

If you are ever in the area, please let me know so I can take you out to lunch. I am glad we are in contact.

With love, Todd

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Thank so much for the update, Todd!

I can only imagine what an inspirational teacher you are. You have tremendous compassion and could really help those kids understand how to grow into independent adults despite real life challenges. Your mom knew that you were under tremendous stress and acting out. I think of it less as “wild” and more as angry and lost watching your mother fight for her life.

I think of the beach as very healing and life affirming. You picked such a beautiful place to live.

I live really close to your old house now. Not sure when I’ll get up to your area, but if you’re ever down in Los Angeles – please let me know. And of course, bring your guitar.

I still have your mom’s outfit that she wore to your Bar Mitzvah. Your dad gave me a lot of her clothes. I don’t have anything anymore except that outfit. It was a little small on me, and I always hoped I’d be able to wear it if I lost weight. LOL – I never did! But your grandma told me it was very expensive. If you would like it, I’ll continue saving it for you. It’s very wrinkled because I had it in a bag for a long time.

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I can see you’re a beloved teacher by your students. So glad you found your calling. I just know your mom is smiling down on both of us at this moment. I can still hear her voice sometimes when I’m playing tennis!

Would it be okay for me to share a story about this on my blog? I would run it by you first, of course. And please let me know anything else you might want to share about her with me.

Love, Judy

Hello Judy,

Mom would be fine with you writing anything you would like, and so am I.

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Speaking about her is so strange for me; I do it rarely. To be honest, I did not cope with it well. I used drugs and ran away for a long time. I often reflect that I know nothing of God or anything like that, but I know my mother watches over me, and that there is simply more than what we see.

Fate did not allow me to crash the way so many do when they make the type of mistakes I did so early on. I am here now to help the next generation be strong, both academically and hopefully as humans, as well.

My actions are haunted by the voices of those I have lost: mom, grandma, and grandpa. They guide me now when I have to be strong and firm, as well as compassionate.

I have great fears now for the young out there in this country. I fear that education; family values and depth of character are weakening. It has become my passion to bring a taste of what was passed on to me to the next generation. Unfortunately, few others hold traditional values dear to their hearts anymore. For some reason, what I do seems to work.

In the place of running and medicating, that is what I do now.

I have healed, and it took many years to be able to say that with confidence. When I lost grandma and grandpa, I did not crash again; that is not what they wanted for me.

It is my time now to be the one to make things all right, and I try always to keep that sentiment in heart and mind. I have found that being a wild young person caused me to be an extremely conservative adult.

I chaperoned one of our Middle School dances this evening. The lack of tack, behavior or any sort of social grace in general was a reminder that children need guidance from their parents or whoever is there to apply the necessary pressure to keep some sense of balance.

It is good to converse with you, Judy. It brings mom closer again. This is important and means a lot to me. Thank you.

Love, Todd

I’m so glad you wrote again, Todd.

Your mother was such a gentle and beautiful soul. She had so much optimism as she suffered with cancer. I know she loved you deeply. She was always thinking of you and completely understood why you were “wild.” From what you wrote, it seems that your “wild side” was your way of coping.

She just wished things were different and that she could help you. But she did!

Like you, I didn’t have much feeling for religion or God, but I really feel blessed now because writing and music has helped me so much.

All the years I kept in touch with your grandma were very heartening for me. I danced with joy to hear how things turned around for you.

Healing is amazing and that is why I write so much about it. People in deep grief suffer and destroy themselves because they lose hope and don’t realize that out of it can come a new life – with resilience, strength and even happiness again.

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Hi Todd, I finished the story and would love to add any pictures you might have. Have you gotten a chance to find them? Hope you’re well and I wanted to wish you a great Thanksgiving holiday!

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Love, Judy          

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Hello Judy,

Happy Thanksgiving to you too. I do have a few pictures from my Bar Mitzvah, which I think would be what you are looking for. There is another one of me when I was real young that I liked also. I have been thinking about you and all you are going through right now and wish you the best.

With love, Todd          

Thanks, Todd. I am excited to see them and look forward to sharing this beautiful story on my blog. I’m so proud of you. I feel like your surrogate mother! Love, Judy

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Dear Judy,

Your words bring back memories I buried years ago. I am at a loss for words at your ability to bring my mom’s spirit back to life in your blog. Thank you for what you are doing. It really means so much to me to see how deeply you loved and still love my mother.

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I spent so many years moving on. It is lovely to reflect now, to recognize what happened, and how it impacts my life today. I realize now that so much of how I teach math (and attempt to teach character development) to my students is a result of my own experience. In a failing public school system, I try to help my students survive, to give them the study skills and knowledge tools to make it in a country with ever less opportunity. Surviving, not being a victim of anything, and not making excuses for how we deal with the hand we are dealt are daily topics of conversation in my classroom.

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I don’t know how I got through college. Fortunately, I did not drop out. Mom died my freshman year, and I did lots of drugs…ran away with the hippie kids for a few years, but fortunately I turned out to be a good test taker. More than that, though, dad was there for me during the worst of those times. When mom died, he did not turn his back on me, though I certainly gave him cause to do so. I have him to thank in so many ways.

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I wish mom could be here to play tennis with you, to mourn the loss of your mother with you, may she rest in peace, and listen to you sing your beautiful songs. She always had a very special bond with you; you gave her courage and strength. She told me that.

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Mom knew, though I was in straight out denial that she would not be here today. So, instead, she treated me like an adult then. She spoke to me about so many things that I was not ready to hear, but I do remember. My conversations with you have allowed me to remember things we spoke of.

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We went out to dinner several nights a week while I was in high school. She told me lots of juicy gossip; but more than that, she told me about those she loved, and her hopes for me. I miss those dinners so much.

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Again, thank you Judy for being a great friend to my mother. Thank you for helping me to heal.

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Love, Todd

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What you wrote is so beautiful, Todd that I am crying my eyes out. Your message came at a time when I was feeling very vulnerable. With the holiday approaching and problems with my children as a result of my divorce – well, I sure wish I had my mom and dad around to hold and comfort me.

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Your message is a gift. In helping you to heal, I am helping myself, too.

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Friendship is a wonderful thing and Linda would have eased my loneliness. My tears are flowing for your beautiful mom. I have not forgotten her voice or her kindness. I never realized how much I have missed her! She would have been so supportive of all that I’m doing.

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You lost a lot because of her early death. But it was so touching to hear how she treated you as an adult; that sounds exactly like her.

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Thank you again, Todd for opening up to me. My blog is like a diary, but at the same time I see it as a magnificent opportunity to touch other people with honesty and real experiences. Your mom was real. And she sure made a difference in so many ways. I’ll be thinking of you, Todd.

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Love, Judy

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A later story where I actually met Todd is at this link:

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#473 ONE DAY YOU ARRIVED

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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.

Tagged acoustic guitar, cancer and dying, courage facing death, 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, singing, son's grief, songwriting, Tennis, tennis friend, tennis friendship, terminal illness, Todd Shaff, women's doubles | 8 Comments

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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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This story is continued with this link:

#387 I WAS BLESSED TO BE HEALED – PART 2

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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.

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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.

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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.