myjourneysinsight

IT FEELS SO DARK – PART 3

Posted on October 9, 2013 by Judy

I knew my mother had clearly “turned.” But I preferred to pretend otherwise.

I visited her as I usually did on Saturday and brought lunch for Miriam and I. Miriam was upbeat and said my mother had been fairly alert in the morning. But all through our lunch, my mother slept with her body slumped forward in her wheelchair. I wished she knew I was there, because I knew she often missed me when she didn’t see me.

The next day was a beautiful Sunday morning. I woke up early and decided to go visit her again. Perhaps she would be awake and aware of my presence this time.

I wiped away a few tears as I placed a picture at my mom’s bedside.

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I love you, mom

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I sat next to her while she slept for an hour. She looked exactly like my father when he was dying in his nursing home bed a year earlier. It was uncanny. Her open mouth and labored breathing brought back memories of my father’s “death rattle,” which I had tried hard to forget.

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A nurse I recognized walked by and rubbed my shoulder. Then she sweetly said, “Go home, honey.”

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Her hug was warm and firm. We began talking and she asked me how many children I had.

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Normally, I said three. But on this day I said, “Four.”

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When she asked me how old my children were, it led me to mention Jason who had died at the age of five.

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I included mentioning Jason to honor his memory. It turned out that this particular day was the anniversary of his death, because he died on October 6, 1992.

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The nurse encouraged me once again to leave. I stood up. She said, “You sure were close with your mom.”

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I glanced again at my mother who was slipping toward death. I remembered how much she had suffered with me after Jason died. I wasn’t sure how I survived, but certainly the support of both my parents helped me tremendously.

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I said to the nurse, “Did you know my mom dropped out of college to help me with my sick child? She needed only one more class to graduate. She never went back to finish and for five years she was devoted to helping me with Jason.”

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I heard my mother moan softly as I said those words.

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Shirley & Jason

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Staying positive was something I put all of my energy toward. I had been working on a large illustration assignment and it was almost done. That Sunday, I came home from the nursing home to finish the last group of illustrations. It was a relief to finish the project.

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That evening, I called again to check on my mom and nothing had changed. She continued to sleep.

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And so, another anniversary of Jason’s death had gone by.

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I was relieved. I was sad about my mother, but felt peaceful remembering Jason.

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Twenty-one years ago, I faced the most heartbreaking moment of my life when I saw my beautiful five-year-old son dead.

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I did not feel any pain or sadness about losing him anymore.

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I received a few messages from friends who were thinking of me. One close friend who also lost a son in the fall wrote:

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As you know I always dread this time of year because of his birthday and anniversary of his death. After all these years the pain never really gets easier does it?

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I replied:

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I feel like I am diverging in regards to my grief over Jason’s death. I actually welcomed the fall breezes this year and my heart felt light whenever I thought of him. My pain has melted away. I really do believe that I’ve healed.

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I have memories of pain and trauma – those haven’t gone away. But feeling peaceful and accepting is wonderful. I have many other forms of pain in my life and my challenge is to apply this peacefulness to all those things.

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Writing and music has helped me so much. I will think of you because I have so much compassion for the pain of grief that I carried for so many years. I pray it will get easier for you someday.

Love, Judy

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Jason's grave and shadow 2

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“It feels so dark, the sky is gray”

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In less than a week it would be my birthday. The weather had changed and today it had rained. I wore sandals and felt chilled; inside I was also emotionally numb. My day had been very difficult.

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I tried to push away thoughts of how ironic it would be if my mother died on my birthday. Originally, I had deflected making plans with friends who wanted to take me out. A week earlier, I was too overwhelmed to think about it while I was working on a large illustration assignment.

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But now there was my mother’s illness to consider. I decided to make plans because I knew it would be good for me.

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A birthday party from long ago.

It was hard for me to concentrate. My day was a blur and I sat at my computer thinking about my mother fighting to stay alive. I saw an email from a good friend. She wanted me to mark down a date that was several weeks away to celebrate my birthday.

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Her message was a ray of sunshine.

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I wrote back:

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I love you dearly and now I will have something bright to look forward to in my darkness.

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My friend replied:

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Darkness doesn’t sound good. What is happening with your mom? I am imagining the worst.

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I’m writing about it now, but I think I should be writing her eulogy. I cannot bear to watch as she gurgles to breathe. It’s a horror.

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It could be any time or it could take her 2 weeks to die. Today, I had to choose between morphine and an antibiotic. It was a hard decision.

Love, Judy

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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 Aging Parents, Caregiving, child's death, composing, death, death of a child, dementia, grief, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, Hang On, loss, loss of a mom, loss of a mother, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, mother, mother daughter relationship, mother dying, mother tribute, mother's illness, original songs, songwriting, tribute to my mother, writing | 3 Comments

I SEARCHED FOR A SMILE

Posted on October 3, 2013 by Judy

This post title has a line of lyrics from my song, “More Than You Know.” I was editing that song last week so it could add it to my audio book. My song is about letting go.

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more-than-you-know

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I was standing in line at the pharmacy when a man walked by me and said, “You sure are look happy!”

I was taken aback and realized I had been smiling unconsciously. I grinned and said, “Well, smiling is my default!”

I’ve often said that a smile lights the way for me. It happened again the next day. I was on my way over to see my mother and wanted to pick up lunch for Miriam and I before going there. The easiest thing was to grab something at a sandwich shop across the street from her nursing home. As the store manager rang up two salads for me she said, “Weren’t you here a few days ago? I remember you.”

I told her how nice it was that she remembered me. And I knew that my smile was the reason.

Then I asked her, “Any chance you might have a job available here for my son?” As I left the store, I beamed because she gave me information for him to apply. She said she would consider him and asked me for his name.

My 23-year-old son was very discouraged. He graduated college last May and was searching desperately to find a job. He told me he’d be willing to try anything and I wished I could help him more. For certain he wasn’t alone. I had met and heard from many people how difficult it was to find a job.

The nursing home was two blocks from the sandwich shop, and I was still singing along to a karaoke of one of songs as I pulled into the parking area. As usual, I thanked God for my music. Staying positive and calm despite my mother’s declining health was important to me.

I knew my mother was well cared for by her companion Miriam, but at the same time Miriam couldn’t replace me. Guilt was a cloud that I constantly dodged; I called to check on things consistently but I didn’t devote my life to spending every day with my mother anymore. When she had been in and out of hospitals several years ago, I had.

On Wednesday, I usually joined my middle brother and nephew at a nearby restaurant. In the morning, I called my brother and told him that our mom was far too weak to go to a restaurant. I could tell he was worried and very disappointed.

The beginning of my awareness that things had turned began today.

I realized those outings were over. My mother no longer had the strength to stand, and lifting her into a car would be very difficult.

When I walked from my car toward the nursing home, I saw my brother and nephew standing near my mother’s wheelchair. They weren’t going to stay for lunch, but had stopped by for a brief visit. I hugged them both and said perhaps she’d be able to go out with us to our usual restaurant the following week.

With those words, I was lying.

Miriam had sent me a picture of my mother sitting outside the day before. It came with the beautiful message that my mother was enjoying the sunshine. I shared the picture with family and friends and even attached it to the last story I wrote about my mother and her struggles.

But the truth was that I didn’t really look closely at the photo of her bathed in sunlight. I hadn’t really noticed how my mother’s mouth was wide open. It looked like a smile, but it was actually her attempt to breathe any air she could.

As soon as my brother and nephew left, realizations of my mother’s situation began to set in. I was horrified to see her this way. Her jaw was receding as she gasped to breathe. She was skeletal.

During my last few visits with her, she had been sleeping and her eyes were closed. Now they were wide open.

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It was hard to look at my mother as she studied me intently and rattled with every breath she took.

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Losing Mom 2

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Miriam and I found a table in the shade where we could eat our lunch. I was so happy to see Miriam and she felt the same way. But I felt tears continually oozing out; I quickly wiped them away. My eyes were foggy and my smile felt forced.

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Miriam went to get my mother’s lunch and bring her tray outside to our area. As soon as Miriam walked away, I bent close to my mother’s face. I clutched her hands and they were soft and warm. It was just the two of us.

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But we were not really alone. I felt the presence of death and so did my mother.

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I put my head against her cheek and she slowly mouthed a kiss upon me. I began to cry.

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I told my mother how sorry I was that I couldn’t find a way for my brothers to reconcile so she could see us all together. So many times I had promised her it would happen.

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Miriam returned and became very emotional watching us.

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I told Miriam, “Did you know that my mother reunited her brother and sister when they were no longer speaking? She waited at her sister’s doorstep and screamed at her. My mother actually damaged her vocal cords when she did that. But she did manage to get them to make up.”

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Suddenly my mother croaked, “I sure did!” I felt my heart pound and was amazed – she was aware of what I had said! But then she began to cough and choke from the effort of speaking.

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Miriam said quietly, “Judy, she heard everything you said. Do you realize how much this means to her?”

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Then Miriam added, “I always talk to Shirley and sometimes the nurses wonder why. They tell me that she doesn’t get it. But I know she does.”

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This picture was taken a few months ago.

We had finished our lunch and I told Miriam it was a little too cool in the shade. I thought it would be nice to take my mom over to the garden area where it was sunnier.

Miriam pushed the wheelchair over to a spot near a bubbling fountain. It was serene and peaceful. As we sat in the sunshine, Miriam noticed the large scar on my arm. She said, “Judy, you were really burned badly there.”

I smiled at Miriam and said, “You know, my scar is just a part of me. When Jason died, my soul was amputated. There were scars from that and you just can’t see those scars. I clearly remember how agonizing my burn felt when it happened three years ago. But now my arm has healed and it doesn’t hurt anymore. I know it looks awful. Grief is the same way.”

I didn’t tell her that whenever I looked at my scar, I was reminded of all the years that I had carried breakfast upstairs to my husband on the weekends. I dreamed that someday I would experience having someone do that for me.

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I burned my arm two years ago when hot tea spilled on me. I was carrying a tray with breakfast on it for my husband.

My mother studied me intently. I remembered how years ago I very much liked a song that was named “In My Daughter’s Eyes.”

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Suddenly, I was thinking of what I could write related to what I saw in my mother’s eyes.

I finally allowed myself to look into her eyes.

It was quite difficult because I was gripped by emotion that ripped my heart open.

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My mother’s left eye was blind from macular and the other was hooded and drooping. Her eyelashes were moist and clumped.

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Both her eyes were filled with deep love.

But my heart ached because I saw so much sadness. She knew death was approaching.

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She was worried about me.

First, I told her how much I loved her. Then I let her know I’d be okay and told her how strong I was.

Relieving her of worry would help her to let go; it was just like when I helped my father to die but in a different way.

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I said, “Mom, I’m so lucky to have Miriam; she’ll always be a part of my life now. I’ve made a wonderful new friend because of you!” Miriam hugged me.

I wondered if my mother were still fearful about dying. She often told me that it terrified her.

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I was thankful that I didn’t see fear, only sadness. Her eyes held resignation. I believed that it was because she didn’t want to leave. She loved all of her children so much.

I remembered how vital and active she was. I told Miriam, “Did you know I had to fight my mom to use a walker? She fell so many times before she accepted one.”

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Then I turned to my mother and said, “I’ll always remember how we rode bikes together. And how I dragged you through Costco with your walker. You loved it and never complained even when your back was hurting.” I found my smile for that moment.

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Miriam said, “Judy, you know she lives for moments like this with you. It’s so beautiful!” Miriam began to cry.

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For over an hour I chattered on about my life hoping she was able to understand what I talked about. I spoke to her just like I used to before dementia stole her awareness. When dementia left her mute, I often wondered if she was understood the conversations that went on around her. It was almost like she was invisible.

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For such a long time, I didn’t know what to say to her so I said very little. It was far easier to talk to Miriam.

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But now it was different. The time was ticking loudly and every moment was elevated. Because I knew how much she appreciated my words, I allowed myself to open up more.

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Now my mother heard all of my reasons for getting divorced. I told her how wonderful her grandchildren were. And how every time I was in the kitchen, I felt her presence. I loved sleeping in the bedroom where she and dad had slept for over forty years.

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I let her know how much I loved living in the home I was raised in.

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Eventually, it was time for me to go.

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I was teary and said, “Mom, are you really okay? Are you happy I’m here?”

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I couldn’t believe I said something so needy!

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Once again, my mother used all of her throat muscles to emphatically croak, “Yes!”

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Memories with my mom 1

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A tank of oxygen was connected to her. When she coughed, I imagined she was drowning.

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And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

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I looked again into my mother’s eyes. They were unblinking and resigned. She was very still for a moment.

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I found myself imagining that she had taken her last breath and all of this was over.

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Her will to live was unbelievable. But death wasn’t something she could overcome, despite her will.

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It was hard for me to leave her and I cried as I said goodbye. I staggered to my car gasping. Waves of tears engulfed me.

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I wondered as I drove home how I would keep smiling.

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Tagged acceptance of loss, acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, Caregiving, composing, death, dementia, grief, GRIEF RELATED, guitar, inspiration, letting go, losing a mother, loss, loss of a mom, love for a mother, love never dies, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Miriam, More Than You Know, mother, mother and sadness, mother daughter relationship, mother dying, mother with dementia, mother's illness, Mother's love, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, singing, songwriting, tribute to my mother, writing | 1 Comment

COLORS AND SOUNDS FILLED ME WITH DELIGHT

Posted on October 2, 2013 by Judy

The link below is to a more detailed illustration story on my blog “Illustrating My Life:”

LAYERS IN MY LIFE

This post title is a line of lyrics from my song, “Music Saved Me.” A link to the song and story is below:

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Link to my story about how Music Saved Me

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Art is my profession; music is my passion.

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Art and music are two creative pursuits that define my life. I realize that I didn’t include writing. I’ll save that for another story, because writing is definitely my remedy!

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There are many similarities between art and music for me. I believe the most obvious parallel between art and music would be “layers.” Every illustration I create starts with layers. The order, selection and placement of those layers affect the outcome. When painting with watercolors, my washes are transparent veils of colors that I gradually build upon.

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I am now primarily a digital illustrator. I separate every item in the composition on my computer. Then I arrange those items to fit comfortably into the label area I’m illustrating. I use whatever reference I can find and often shoot my own photos with an inexpensive digital camera.

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Below is an example of my digital process. I was still teaching myself how to do this when I illustrated a label for the salad company, Ready Pac. My illustration was for a Caesar salad dressing label and the ingredients needed to be arranged in a specific way to fit the space.

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My photo of ingredients

My final illustration (the lemon was taken out).

With music, the ingredients are the lyrics, chords and my vocal – all of which are deeply defined by me. And with every song creation, the order that I create those ingredients is different. Sometimes I’ll scribble lyrics on a scrap of paper in my purse. Late at night, I might discover beautiful chords while playing my guitar. Other times, I’ll hum a melody that I can’t shake.

Music has layers, just as an illustration does. Clearly defined layers comprise my song’s arrangement. Arrangements are simply layers (or separate tracks) of instrumentation and include my vocal and guitar recordings. George has also told me that the order of an instrument we choose affects the entire arrangement. He has told me he plays different melodies, which dance in harmony to the sound that came before it. That is exactly like the creation of a watercolor painting when I must decide which areas to paint first.

Music Layer visible as colored stripes in the computer program Protools.

Music layers are visible as colored stripes on the computer program Pro Tools. I have learned to read and edit waveforms.

With art, I strive relentlessly to please my clients and that can involve numerous revisions to an illustration. With music, I strive to please myself. There is even a similarity between those because it is a relentless task. I am very demanding of myself!

I do appreciate humor and it has been an excellent coping tool for me. I have heard several times from people who have read my blog that my writing has them both laughing and crying. Perhaps that’s why I wrote a song named “Laughter and Tears!”

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It occurs to me that I haven’t written anything really funny for a long time.

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My final illustration of Marion Berries. The client was very particular about the color of this berry.

When I illustrated Marion Berries for a flavor of yogurt recently, there were a lot of versions I created in order to satisfy my client. Here were some of them below:

Marion Berry ideas

When I shared my illustrations with a few friends, I received a message back from Dr. Sam with a picture. It was:

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Close, but this is Marion Barry….

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I far prefer illustrating a pepper like this one.

These peppers are a lot prettier than the story I am going to share below!

“Hot Stuff”

Sometimes on illustration assignments I am required to sign confidentiality agreements. Even though I haven’t had to on my recent projects, in the interest of being discreet I won’t name the clients I’m working for.

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I have learned a lot as an illustrator.

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I received a small assignment to create two illustrations to go on a pizza box. One was for garlic and the other chipotle. For the garlic flavor, I already had existing art that could be used.

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Garlic

But for the chipotle flavor I had to create new art. Rarely is that required of me, since I have such an extensive library of existing food images.

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So now, I am intimately acquainted with Chipotle peppers. They were a lot harder to illustrate than I thought.

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It was because they were incredibly ugly and no actual reference existed!

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Every job of mine begins with finding reference. I contacted the art director after going to a local Hispanic market looking for an example of chipotle peppers. I told her that I couldn’t find any actual peppers to work from. It seemed that they only existed as a picture on a can. And inside the can, those peppers were soaked in Adobo sauce. I needed something better than that to work from.

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So she emailed me a picture that I will name “Pepper Corpses.”

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Pepper Corpses

I couldn’t believe it – how in the world would I illustrate peppers looking like that?

It was time for me to be truly creative. I remembered seeing dried peppers at the Latino market. I would just go back and find something “similar.” I must mention that I was also searching for reference on another assignment. I needed items of caramel, chocolate and ice cream. For a few weeks I became a supermarket sleuth! My dining room table was covered with illustration reference.

Unfortunately, the peppers I found did not really match the shape or color. Some were very tiny, long and a bright red color. Others were longer, wider and brown in color. I altered my photos and tried to match the photo of pepper corpses above. I then shot them off to the Art Director, whom I will call AD.

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AD sent me back more photo reference.

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Aha! Now I was on the right track! Once again, I went back to the Hispanic Market and went through all the bins of dried peppers while holding a color copy of those images above. The penny was helpful for size, but there was still nothing that matched. But I knew with Photoshop I could do wonders.

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As I was walking toward the checkout line, there was another bin. Wallah! There were peppers that really seemed close to what AD wanted. Hint: They were not Chipotle.

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Chipotle reference close-up

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I began my digital work and delicately erased the background and arranged the peppers into different compositions. I sent my layout choices off to the AD.

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The AD picked B. But now, the color had changed. Brown or eggplant color was out and I was instructed to create something with a deep red. I created another layout on my computer.

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Final Layout

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My layout was approved! I felt like I saw peppers in my sleep by now. My eyes burned because I rubbed them by mistake while I was photographing the dried peppers. I forgot how potent those peppers were!

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The process of creating my illustration was usually simple at this point. I printed out my image onto watercolor paper and worked over it. I used a lot of colored pencil, especially on the highlight areas that were numerous and too busy.

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Sometimes my illustrations feel very abstract as a close-up.

Sometimes my illustrations feel very abstract when viewed as a close-up.

I sent off the final art and it was a relief. I always looked forward to the message telling me my artwork was approved and that I could send an invoice. I held my breath.

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The AD sent me a message with a tiny revision. It wasn’t difficult with my computer to alter the artwork. But of course, I thought, “Why didn’t she see that sooner?”

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I made the small change and then I received her message below:

Judy! Client loves the work and is so thankful we talked them into illustration vs. photography. All approved!! : )

THANK YOU SO MUCH again for jumping on this! Shoot over your invoice and I’ll get it into accounting right away. Yippeee!

I wrote back:

Wow! You just made my day. 🙂 🙂 🙂

After illustrating peppers, I feel like I’m hot stuff.

Judy

Chipotle Pepper Final Art

Tagged acoustic guitar, arranging a song, artist, Caesar Salad illustration, capsicum, chipotle peppers, commercial artist, composing, creativity, digital art, digital illustration, food illustration, garlic illustrations, guitar, Humor, humor daily life, illustrating, illustrating food, illustrating in layers, Illustration, illustrator, inspiration, Judy Unger, Music, music as layers, musical arrangements, musical arranging, original songs, Peppers, Perfume medley, Ready Pac, songwriting, watercolors, writing | 2 Comments

DO NOT SUCCUMB – PART 1

Posted on September 30, 2013 by Judy

The sweet melody lifted me into the sky. Every note caressed my heart and soul. And when I sang along with it, it was simply unbelievable. There was nothing more beautiful in my world than this. It didn’t seem possible that within a few hours such a wondrous creation could be born.

It looped in my mind and I heard it playing even when it wasn’t being played aloud.

When it was playing, I was soaring.

When it was playing, I felt a warm tingling sensation in my heart.

When it was playing, colors glowed and seemed brighter.

When it was playing, I felt joyful and happy.

And when it was playing, I was glad I was alive.

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Below is a link to my first story about this song:

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Story behind HANG ON

suc . cumb (intransitive verb)

1. give in

2. die from something

Synonyms: yield, submit, surrender

The title for this story is a line of lyrics from my song “Hang On.”

The reason for the definition above is simple. Here is how the word succumb fits into my lyrics for “Hang On.”

Though you are numb, do not succumb.

I wrote my song “Hang On,” not long after I composed “The Unknown.” It helped heal me from my own pain tremendously.

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Living with numbness was how I operated for decades. I did not allow myself to feel anything.

Hanging on was also my way of coping. While I was hanging on, I held on tightly and allowed others to help me. I hung on with others who were also suffering like I was.

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Hanging on represented something temporary, so I was still able to dream about a future without pain.

Although I was inspired to write my lyrics related to grief, hanging on also applied to other things in my life. I’ve hung on through my divorce.

And at this moment my mother is hanging on. I am holding her tightly and we are hanging on together. I know one day our pain will go away. Love is what keeps my mother hanging onto life. But I also know that with her death, love never leaves. I feel calm and accepting and treasure this because the alternative would erase my joy and detract from my own life.

Succumbing to grief happens. I’ve watched many people succumb to their grief. Health issues resulted and even an early death. It was awful and sad. I have been proud of my survival of grief, and prouder still of allowing happiness into my life.

It was because I was determined not to yield, submit, surrender or succumb to my grief. When my child died, my grief was so powerful and suffocating that it left me trampled on the ground.

But I didn’t lie there.

I crawled and moved forward. It was love that kept me going.

Succumb is not a pretty word to sing. But it does tell my story.

A picture of my mother as a child.

Update on my mother’s condition:

Message from Dr. Sam:

Hi Judy…. I agree with what you are doing…there is a big push now to put elderly patients on hospice, ending their life and the associated costs of treatment. Sometimes, of course, hospice is valuable…when patients have terminal diseases and wish to be kept comfortable at home or in their facility. But your Mom still seems to get enjoyment out of life, continues to eat, and obviously enjoys seeing you and going to lunch. I think that the kind of treatments you are giving her are perfectly appropriate…no hospitalization does NOT mean no care, and make sure you keep reminding the nursing home of that, and what your wishes are.

I had an 86-year-old practicing attorney admitted to a local hospital with a fractured shoulder…they tried to put HIM on hospice, after he became disoriented from too much pain medication. His daughter, also an attorney, had a fit and stopped them…but we are seeing more and more of this, unfortunately…Sam

Wow, thank you, Sam. I think every situation is unique to what the person wants. My father wanted to die and I followed his wishes. I know my mother really clings to life and this would be what she wants. She doesn’t seem to be suffering, and very much enjoys seeing my brothers and I. Although the rest of the time can’t be easy for her – Miriam sure helps. Judy

Message from my middle brother:

Judy, how is mom today?

I checked in on her yesterday and spoke with Miriam this morning. She’s off oxygen!

I think she made it through the stress of receiving gamma globulin and is getting her strength back. It sure doesn’t seem to be a hospice situation like it was last week.

An administrator from her nursing home called to admonish me for insisting they arrange transportation to the gamma appointment that I was able to insist upon. She said, “It’s not our policy to switch things around at the last minute.” I became irritated when she began lecturing me.

But I turned it all around by saying, “You’re calling me – but I should have called you first! Thank you for taking my mom to that life-saving appointment.”

After that, the woman didn’t really know what to say. I told her this was not a regular thing at all. I would have carried mom myself to gamma if I had to.

Love, Jude

Message from a friend:

My, what a saga, Judy. It proves once again that a person definitely needs an advocate.

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Link to Part 2 of this story:

DO NOT SUCCUMB – Part 2

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