myjourneysinsight

WHEREVER YOU ARE, MY LOVE WON’T BE FAR

Posted on August 19, 2011 by Judy

It has become a weekly tradition to eat with my parents at IHOP (The International House of Pancakes). Our group numbered 12 people two weeks ago. The manager is quite friendly to me. I am with my mother and her caregiver, Miriam, in this picture.

Last week, I could see my father muster much more of a smile when I took his picture at our weekly lunch where he saw my mother. My mother was ecstatic to have him next to her.

Update on my father:

My father’s procedure last Wednesday was semi-successful and a part of his kidney stone was removed.

The urologist decided to do another procedure two days after (today). Once again, it was not completely successful.

He plans to do the slightly more invasive procedure using a “kidney puncture” in two weeks. My father survived the ordeal, and spoke with me this evening. He was lucid and happy to hear about my vacation, which I decided to go on despite his procedures. I saved a lot of details to share with him, such as the many restaurants I ate at with my family where we had eaten on vacation together many years before.

–

“Omar and Lee”

Omar was a special nurse and my father adored him. He was very caring and kind to my father. For the past few weeks, Omar often got my father ready before I came to take my father to my home for dinner. There was so much humanity for me, meeting this kind man who would change my father’s soiled diaper so he would have that “over with” before coming to my home.

He allowed my father so much dignity under such difficult circumstances!

Omar knew my father would be having surgery the following day. I also told him the news I had received only a few hours earlier. When my father was released from the hospital, he would be moved to where my mother was. Although he would be in the same building she was, his room was upstairs. It was very exciting to know they would soon live near each other again after being separated for at least five months.

Tomorrow is their 61^st anniversary.

While Omar and I waited for my father to finish in the bathroom, Omar told me how he handled my father’s negativity. He said he reminded my father how when my father was a teacher he would never speak so negatively to his students. He said that after that my father agreed with him and had a more positives attitude.

It was now time for my father and I to leave. As my father and Omar said goodbye, it was quite touching.

It was unlikely that they would ever see each other again.

I asked Omar if I could take his picture and I told him about my blog. He said he would love to read what I had written about my father. When my father smiled for his picture in a way I hadn’t seen in years, I felt like crying. With tears in my eyes, I also hugged Omar goodbye. I thanked him profusely for helping to give my father so much comfort under such difficult circumstances.

Lee and Omar. My father is clutching his possessions in a silver bag, which he insisted I take to my house since he will be moving. That orange handle is for the longest shoehorn I’ve ever seen!

Last week, my father had a procedure to once again try to remove his kidney stones by “zapping them.” I apologize for my lack of proper medical terminology. It was scheduled for the same day I had planned to leave on a two-day beach vacation with my family.

When I told my family it would be best to postpone and reschedule our vacation, the reaction from two of my children gave me pause. They were agitated and tearful when they told me they had been looking forward to getting away and especially to spending time with me. It was to be our first vacation in a year together, so I understood.

I mentioned to my father my dilemma, and he was unequivocal in insisting that I not postpone my vacation. I wouldn’t be too far away, so it made sense not to change it. My brothers could keep me informed. I decided to try something different, since my devotion had always been steadfast to my parents and my children were really looking forward to this trip.

Vacations represented a tremendous challenge for me.

The night before leaving, I allowed myself to imagine ways I could unobtrusively incorporate music to better soothe, as well as help myself cope with those challenges.

I definitely could use the metaphor of my family being like a big salad. All my children, as well as my husband were like oil and vinegar. I represented the tongs and tossed things up to create the best results. However, being the “chef” was not relaxing, for sure!

As I left for my trip, I had quite a few stressful phone calls on that Wednesday morning. This was in addition to wondering what the outcome of my father’s surgery would be later in the day.

My stress:

My mother had coughed up blood the night before. Her caregiver, Miriam, called me early in the morning and I called my mother’s charge nurse. She was taken for an x-ray. The last message I heard was that she was being referred to a pulmonologist.

My mother had hearing aids that were no longer working. I needed to find out when I could have them repaired if they were unable to be replaced by her insurance.

The net result of my mother not hearing well was that her dementia became far worse. Her latest symptom was a complete refusal to eat. Miriam told me she now sustained her with a “Boost” liquid supplement. It took clever cajoling from Miriam to convince my mother to even drink it.

In order to better cope, I imagined I was a superhero who could pull it all off. I held onto that image and became focused on deflecting the arrows of pain shooting in my direction. With my family, I was often everyone’s complaint department. I was very good at absorbing pain.

Unfortunately, that made me ill and wasn’t optimal for me.

Still, for this short vacation I tried to make everyone happy even though I knew that was totally impossible.

I was semi-successful, so that alone was worth celebrating!

There were many moments where I sang to myself. I even wrote lyrics while everyone slept.

As I sign off now to go sing and play my guitar, I want to share one of the ways I pleased my youngest son on our vacation.

Only last week, I wrote these words regarding going near the ocean:

“Are you kidding? You won’t catch me near the freezing water. I am not going to take any chances getting smashed by a wave! It’s too important for me to maintain my health at this stage in my life.”

Well, I said okay to my youngest son when he begged me to accompany him in the ocean. We both swam on boogie boards to a platform that was offshore. He kept saying to me, “Mom, how come you’re not afraid?”

I told him there was nothing to be afraid of.

The greatest pleasures in life often happen when we have the courage to just jump in!

–

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2011. 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 "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, caregivers, Caregiving, creativity, Daily Life, family vacation, humor children, humor daily life, kidney stone procedure, mother's illness, Ordinary Life, parenting | Leave a comment

TO SOMEWHERE UNKNOWN

Posted on August 12, 2011 by Judy

A picture of my father from three years ago wearing his favorite hat.

Only two weeks ago, I wrote a story comparing the death of a kitten to watching my elderly father deteriorate and suffer.

This past week, a different path appeared for me to take with my father.

To do nothing was simply another path I had been on that was becoming quite difficult due to my father’s suffering.

When it comes to making medical decisions, I definitely use intellect and seek advice from professionals. However, in the end it is my intuition that has guided me.

My first experience with making a major medical decision came with my 5-year-old son, Jason, needing open-heart surgery. At that time, I sought out a second opinion from another surgeon because it was necessary to choose between a mechanical heart valve and a pig’s valve for my son.

Sadly, my son died following that surgery. I will never forget being told his odds of survival with that surgery were 95%.

With that experience, I always remember now that there is someone who is unlucky enough to fall into the smaller percentages.

After my father’s first urologist told me that he could not remove my father’s kidney stones (despite two attempts) he said, “99% of the time I can get at them.” As I heard him say that, I was reminded how my father was in the unfortunate 1% of those who were not so lucky.

I learned a lot more about making medical decisions with my mother’s illness. Two years ago, I felt rushed into allowing her to have surgery to repair a broken shoulder. I was told there wasn’t time to get another opinion; the weekend was approaching. The surgeon said that by waiting her shoulder might not heal as well. I also felt pressured by my brother and my father to allow for my mother to have immediate surgery.

My mother ended up with complications because she was slightly sick at the time with a cold and had poor immunity. She was on a respirator for almost two months.

After Jason’s death and my mom’s respirator ordeal, I continue to let my intuition guide me. I also learned that things might not go as expected no matter how well thought out a decision might be.

All this experience gave me the strength to make an extremely difficult decision a year later when my mother broke her hip.

Once again, I was told she needed immediate surgery. However, this time I did not allow myself to feel pressured into making a decision. With a lot of agonizing over the fact that she would be placed on hospice without it, I decided that it would be best for her not to have surgery.

It was a difficult decision to make since it was extremely rare for someone to refuse a hip repair. My mother’s hip healed, she was taken off of hospice, and she has been able to walk in a limited fashion. Unfortunately, she suffers from dementia and is off balance. She still needs to be watched carefully at all times.

I am grateful for my intuition. It has served me well, and I continue to follow it as I guide my father’s care.

My eighty-seven year old father has been languishing with urinary problems. He has a catheter due to a morbidly enlarged prostate and he has two, huge kidney stones. A stent was surgically inserted to allow his kidneys to drain.

I would never have thought that urinary issues were life threatening, but I have watched my father’s life slowly ebbing away.

My father really liked his first urologist who had failed to remove his kidney stones after two attempts. He didn’t want to “upset him” by going to another doctor. My father almost died from blood loss and infection after the last “less invasive” procedure.

Only last week, when I managed to get an appointment with this doctor he revered, I was upset when the doctor noticed the urine in my father’s catheter bag was extremely cloudy. He said my father had another infection going on. My father was on antibiotics, so I wondered why he wasn’t better. What if I had not taken him in?

At this appointment, it made me sad when my father whispered, “Doctor, I’ll do whatever you say; I cannot live like this anymore.” He had so much faith and trust in his doctor. I wasn’t so sure.

My doctor friend, Sam, encouraged me several times to get another urologist’s opinion regarding my father. I asked him who he recommended. He gave me a name and I shared the information with one my brothers. Delegating was something new for me. I was proud that I had enlisted my brother’s help because I had not transported my father anywhere by myself, I was afraid. However, after a few weeks nothing happened. When I asked my brother what was going on with taking our dad to this doctor, he told me he had refused to go.

My brother, Norm, with my mom. This picture is from about ten years ago.

Sam continued to push me to get a second opinion. In my heart, I knew Sam was right. I was tired of doing nothing. It seems like when I let go of keeping up with every detail of my parents’ lives things went wrong. That has been a very familiar theme for me. It has also been repeated with my children.

I made the appointment and told my father he must go with me; I now had the confidence I could transport him myself because I had already taken him out from his facility a few times. It just felt like something I had to do. My mother’s caregiver, Miriam, offered to help me. I realized I didn’t need help, and that felt great!

I had no expectations when I took my father to see this other urologist.

That day, lifting his heavy wheelchair was familiar and not nearly as difficult as it was the first time. I understood how to keep an eye on his catheter hose because it was very easy for it to get tangled between his legs when he slid into my mini-van.

I have stepped on his bag before and it was not pleasant!

When I thought of writing this story, a thousand metaphors crossed my mind. I felt like I was on a horse, galloping into the sunset with my father holding me tightly. I have already used the metaphor of feeling like a fireman climbing into a window to rescue someone in a burning house.

I’d like to think I am rescuing my father. But I cannot say that in confidence because I do not know what the outcome is going to be.

All of my ideas didn’t translate into my wanting to write anything other than the simple fact that I am not afraid.

What I have offered my father is hope. That is all. Sometimes offering hope is all that matters.

I liked the way this other urologist explained things to my father and I. He spent time drawing a large diagram for us. Perhaps because he knew Sam, he was anxious and eager to help my father and I. Most of all, I had the sense that he wanted my father to feel better as soon as possible.

He said he was ready to try a third time to remove my father’s kidney stones using a less invasive procedure; there would be no cutting. He told me he could do a more unconventional technique, involving a slight kidney puncture that might also work without major surgery. I was intrigued. He sounded very experienced and I believed him. I felt like I could trust him.

He said that if I gave him a “go-ahead,” he would schedule the kidney stone removal the following week. After that he would tackle my father’s enlarged prostate and catheter issues.

Throughout the appointment, my father was shaking with a blanket covering him in his wheelchair. I told him that I really liked this doctor’s aggressive approach.

I asked my father what he thought about everything. I noticed his eyes were bulging and his lip was trembling. In a weak voice he said, “Judy, this is such a boost to my morale. I don’t care if I die, but I am so hopeful to know this might help me!”

I shook our new doctor’s hand and told him to go ahead and schedule everything. My father was more than willing to go ahead.

With making this more aggressive decision, which is so counter to my mom’s situation, I am completely comfortable with whatever the outcome is. With Jason’s death, I learned that life is not about being in control.

My father has lived a long life and I have been fortunate to be in any position to make a decision to improve his life.

There is irony for me that I planned a two-day get-away with my family next week. I have not gone on a vacation for a year.

I just received a call that my father’s procedure has been scheduled next Wednesday, on the day our family was supposed to leave.

Such is life.

–

An old picture out in front of where I grew up in North Hollywood. Steven’s apartment was up the stairs behind me in this picture. I can’t believe those pants I’m wearing! Our dog, Teddy, always had one ear up and one down.

Message from my brother:

It sure pays to get a second opinion. Great news. I sure hope it all works. I’m tired of seeing dad this way. He’s so depressed.

Love, Norm

I agree. And it’s more than depressed. Even though he won’t admit it, he’s in pain. He is moaning constantly and it makes me so upset to hear his groans!

Love, Jude

Message to Sam:

Hi Sam,

I just wanted to thank you so much for recommending this wonderful urologist. He explained everything in easy terms.

Both my father and I were very impressed with him. It made it easy to “bite the bullet.” I told him that I wanted him to help us ASAP – it’s ENOUGH already! He’s aggressive, and plans do the procedure next week after my dad goes off the Coumadin. YAY!

I’m tired of seeing my father in pain deteriorating before my eyes. Even my dad said to me that he’d rather die than go on this way.

Judy

Ps. I am so fortunate you popped into my life, to be so helpful and kind. Thanks so much for imparting your wisdom and experience. It’s very much appreciated!

In these pictures, my father is saying goodbye to me as I leave to attend Sam’s prom. My father never could have guessed that someday Sam would be helping him with his medical advice!

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, Caregiving, childhood friendship, high school memories, kidney stone removal, medical decisions, tather's illness | Leave a comment

CHILDISH DREAMS

Posted on August 11, 2011 by Judy

I have been writing my blog for a year and a half now, and perhaps I can introduce some special people in my life that I regularly correspond with. I want to mention Sam.

I reconnected with Sam in October of last year. He was a former boyfriend of mine. Sam found my blog and saw our prom pictures from high school. I had written a song for him entitled “You’re Not the One. Here is a link to that story: YOU’RE NOT THE ONE

I think it is an amazing story. I have been married over thirty years and have three, living children. Sam is also married and has four children. He is a doctor and has been extremely helpful with advice, especially surrounding my elderly parents. Recently, he even helped my friend Joni navigate a challenging medical situation when one of her sons became ill.

On my last post, I wrote about a memory I had surrounding the abuse suffered by my childhood friend, Joni. I also shared a poem at the end of that post. Sam commented to me yesterday about my poem.

I liked your last public post, but it sounded like the last poem you wrote on that page was directed at Joni. (And maybe it was, but it casts her in a poor light…might consider editing it a bit)…Sam

I had found the poem in my memorabilia box and did share it hastily. It was later on where I realized the poem certainly did give the impression that it was about Joni. Joni had written to me immediately after she read it, and had questions about it.

The truth was that although it was might have had some elements taken from our friendship, it was not about her. The last thing I wanted to do was to cause her pain and cast her in a poor light!

I wrote my poem while I was in high school. It resembles song lyrics by having a chorus repetition; around that time I was already writing songs.

Yesterday, I had a beautiful exchange with Joni regarding my last post. I decided to move the poem over here and share our exchanges.

If I could summarize what was most meaningful for me, it would be how my friend overcame her childhood trauma. She suffered a lot as a child. Instead of dwelling on her painful memories, she moved forward. She turned her life into one filled with promise and love. There was no bitterness within her.

That is a beautiful story for me.

–

A picture of Joni and I being silly when we were about twelve-years-old.

Excerpts of my exchange yesterday with Joni:

On Aug 9, 2011, Joni wrote:

I read the blog, it made me and my husband cry and we both wondered about the last poem that had no commentary as far as I could tell, You write beautifully, but what did you mean by she lost her mind? Was that about me? Because you leave our picture at the end, I assumed it might be connected.

It was fun seeing those pictures. I loved going to the beach the three of us. It was really a huge treat to have all that freedom.

Let me know about the poem, I am curious. My guess is that I had disappeared from your life searching for a life for myself.

Best always, Joni

Wow, I didn’t mean to make you both cry! The truth is that it wasn’t written about you. But I think I was affected by seeing you depressed and withdrawn during high school. We didn’t plan a double wedding, did we?

I think my poem was for song lyrics someday. Putting your picture after it definitely was confusing. I might elaborate more so others won’t be confused by the poem also.

Love you, Jude

I love it, Judy. You are so creative and bright. Who would have thought of the future when you were so young, well maybe high school isn’t so young.

I do not recall thinking of a double wedding, but maybe…. it would have been great!

Anyhow, the lyrics are wonderful from your poem. I liked the part where you had so many friends but didn’t recall their names. Yet, you had a special one that you did recall the name, but didn’t reveal it – perhaps it was your mom.

By the way, she looked beautiful on Monday. I am sorry you had to work so hard keeping her thoughts positive. Have you considered allowing her more access to her hurtful thoughts? Who knows? It is so hard. It is very painful seeing a loved one deteriorate; whether they are sick in mind or body. Please remind me of her Hebrew name so I can pray for her more often!!!!! I really do love her like a mother, and I love you like a best friend and a sister.

I will never forget the feelings of safety I had when I was near you, as I experienced life. Thank you for your warmth. I especially recall the comfort I felt when you played your guitar; I really did not want to leave your side, but by then you had quite a few friends.

I know you had to find your way as I did mine, and that whole boyfriend thing never did help our relationship. One of my biggest reasons for loving orthodoxy is for that exact reason. Judaism has a system in place that guides young people on the proper path in life. I felt so alone, confused and longed for that guidance. I think I remember you being uncomfortable with me in high school and I needed to give you space.

The good news is that we managed to survive!!!! And THRIVE!! Thank God!

I thank God for my life as often as possible, because it was tough going there for a long time.

Take care and love always, Joni

Boy, Jone, this is just simply so beautiful for me to read. I wanted to write more to you this morning because I was feeling badly that with my poem and sad memory for you, I dredged up a lot of hurt. It seems like all the good elements of my story, such as your wonderful visit with my mom and me, was overshadowed by this poem and the abuse you endured.

I am so sorry if that caused you pain.

It is amazing for me how much you have gained from becoming religious. I am so honored to know how my family influenced you.

Your message also touches me because you are in such a positive place. I appreciate very much how you have been so wonderful to my mom. It helps to share my pain with you and the joy of her better moments. Her Hebrew name is Shira, by the way. I love that because it means song – isn’t that perfect?

Well, I think I’m going to go sing now. I have a challenging day ahead of me since I am taking my father to another doctor for a second opinion.

Love, Jude

Actually Jude, I have managed somehow to forget the past and when I want to remember I simply can’t.

It is all for the good because I want knowledge of my past. My siblings remember better than I do. I appreciate your remembering for me, as well. Perhaps, trauma does that. Since I was not allowed expression of myself and no one came to pull me out of my emotional state, I was forced to bury my hurt and face the day.

I realize how much you love to find goodness in everything.

That spurs me on to find the good, because when it comes down to it, what do we really have in our life, but how we feel?

You asked me if it was okay to share our correspondence on your blog.

If it is good for you, then I am jumping in after you…. just like at the ocean!

I was scared seeing those waves. The water was always so cold, but it was worse waiting on the shore for you, so I bounded after you. YOU knew no FEAR!!!! You were the bravest person I knew, and still are. You’re my girl!

Please give your dad my best regards. I will love him always too!

Joni

Wow! I love this, too. Have you thought of being a writer? (I guess that’s why you majored in English at UCLA!) I’m so proud of you!

You are inspiring me to write even more with your message. I didn’t know I was so brave; I’m just doing the best I can.

I knew you were cold in the ocean, but you were braver than I was because you overcame that.

Keep jumping with me!

Love, Jude

I would swim in the ocean for hours (notice the goofy mask). Joni was always cold with blue lips!

I’m older in this picture. I was fearless and loved taking huge waves. I never became a surfer, though!

I want to end this post by writing about the feelings I was trying to convey with my poem, Childish Dreams.

I was the youngest in my family and I have two older brothers. I always longed for a sister. I searched for a best friend to fulfill my wish for a sister.

It is interesting for me how my poem expresses honest feelings from my childhood. Those dreams certainly were “immature and childish.” They were still my dreams, however.

The sad part was that it led to a lot of disappointment in my life. I had high expectations about finding a “best friend” to become the sister I longed for.

Inevitably, that led to having my dreams being “shattered to pieces.”

Like grief, disappointment is something I have learned to live with. Now that I am older, I have the insight to understand my high expectations were not at all helpful for me.

When we were young, Joni was not available for me to play with very often. I desperately wanted her to be my “best friend and buddy.” However, she was forced to work most of the time at her parents’ dry cleaning store. My disappointment with our friendship surrounded that fact that she was often moody.

I didn’t understand why when I was a child. I certainly do now.

At this point in my life, I am grateful for all of my friends and accept them for who they are. I stopped searching for a best friend when I became comfortable with being alone with myself.

There is great irony for me that it was then that I realized how I did have a “sister” all along with my friend, Joni.

Tagged "sandwich generation", childhood friendship, composing, creativity, Friendship, guitar, high school memories, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Ordinary Life, songwriting, writing | Leave a comment

WE GREW UP SO FAST

Posted on August 9, 2011 by Judy

Diary page from 1980 with lyric development for my song, Only Tears.

Story behind ONLY TEARS 2

A picture of myself with my childhood friend, Joni, on my right.

“We were children”

Going on vacation was very exciting for me when I was a child. Our trips were always local. I had never even been on an airplane until the age of twenty. On all of our family vacations my parents allowed me to invite a friend, which certainly made it more enjoyable. Before we were teenagers, my neighbor and childhood friend, Joni, was the friend I always wanted to invite.

I would never forget the time when we were all packed and getting ready to leave for a weekend trip to the beach. Joni came to my door, and I was eager to talk about the fun we would have. However, I could see from her bloodshot eyes that she had been crying. She gasped and between her sobs told me that her father would not allow her to go at the last minute.

I couldn’t believe it. As she wailed inconsolably, I was astounded that her father offered no reason other than she couldn’t go.

My parents were aghast also. My father walked over to speak with her parents. However, he came back and said he was unsuccessful at convincing Joni’s father. Our car was packed and ready; it was almost time to leave. I was very sad and began crying because I felt so badly for my friend.

My father started the car. Suddenly, my heart danced with joy. Joni was running toward our car. Her father had somehow relented and she was now allowed to go. She told me she would have to work extra hard when she returned.

Joni always had to work as a child at her parent’s dry cleaning store.

My parents and I waited as she quickly went to get a suitcase ready. My poor friend, who was perhaps ten-years-old at that time, was exhausted from her ordeal. As our car pulled away to leave, she curled up with me in the backseat and laid her head upon my shoulder. I felt so sorry and protective of her. My family was her safe haven.

Recently, I had those same feelings when she showed me the scars on her arms. She told me her father used to hit her with a belt. I never knew she had been beaten and left with those scars as a child.

But I did know about the psychological scars.

These images are from movies clips of beach outings with Joni and my mother. I could see my mother was quite playful from these pictures.

“They both sang along and knew the lyrics to my songs”

It was such a lovely morning. I was in the garden area of my mother’s nursing facility. In the cool shade, I sat with Joni, my mother and her caregiver, Miriam. I had brought along my guitar. The warmth and love between all of us bathed me.

I was with three, very special women.

My mother was the mainstay. I absolutely adored Miriam; her love for my mother made her like my sister. And Joni, was completely connected to me. This wonderful morning was Joni’s idea. I had asked her last week where I could take her out to eat to celebrate her birthday. She said it would mean a lot for her instead to visit with both me and my mother.

I found it unbelievable to think I had known Joni since we were toddlers. Miriam had not met Joni before, but they were very comfortable together.

Since both my friends were very familiar with my music, I took requests.

As I sang from my heart and played my guitar, it was extremely beautiful for me that they both sang along and knew the lyrics to my songs!

Although my mother was delighted with the music and company, she skirted on the periphery of every conversation. She had bruises on her legs from trying to get out of her wheelchair. I often received calls from her facility because it was their procedure to notify me of every injury. The prior evening’s call explained the bandages.

I was sad that she was not comfortable, but I could see she was trying hard to muster the stamina in the beautiful garden atmosphere.

However, she traveled in her own world, confused and agitated about many things. She was challenging to reason with. However, love was the best communicator. I stroked her hand and smiled patiently as she adamantly spoke about things she was worried about with words that often made no sense at all. Every fear my mother had, every single element of dread was palpable in her words and in her eyes. She could not help it, and it was unrelenting and exhausting to witness. Most of her fears were about death and not having money in her purse. She was often angry at my father and called him her “ex-husband.”

I started to feel depleted from exuding nonstop smiling and sweetness to counter my mother’s dementia. It wasn’t about not feeling patient or not wanting to constantly smile.

It was about encountering a demon. It was as if she were possessed, and this was not my mother at all.

All four of us went to a nearby restaurant for lunch. We took many pictures and celebrated my mother and Joni’s birthday, which coincidently were on the same day. As I ate my lunch, I was overflowing with a myriad of emotions.

When I kissed Joni goodbye, I felt amazed at how close we were. Our bond had definitely deepened since I had shared so much of my writing and music with her.

As I said goodbye to my mother, I was startled by her words. She emphatically said, “Thank you for keeping me alive.” I looked over at Miriam who was unfolding the wheelchair at that moment. She reached over and squeezed my hand. Before I left, I gave Miriam the tightest of hugs.

–

We celebrated my mother and Joni’s birthday, which was July 29th.

Miriam took a lot of our pictures. She is on my left.

Joni and I are all grown up!

“I was touched by Judy of the Past”

When I came home, I wanted to write because I had many feelings to express. I searched for pictures to help me write my story. There were some snapshots on my computer that came from old home movies I had viewed last year on DVD’s. The images were perfect because they were taken on a day at the beach with both my mother and Joni. All three of us were rough housing and playing together.

Then, in one of my memory boxes I came across two poems I had written when I was very young. It was so interesting, because both of those poems addressed many of my feelings!

When I was young, I used to write in my diary to “Judy of the Future.”

Now, I had become “Judy of the Future” and I was being touched by “Judy of the Past.”

The first poem was dedicated to my grandmother. It brought up a lot of feelings with the line: “I hear my mother’s wail that in years to come will echo my own.” I remember it was traumatic for me to witness my mother’s grief when her mother died. When I was younger, I dreaded losing my mother and facing inevitable grief.

I am no longer afraid.

I feel like I have done a lot of grief work ahead of time because I have grieved losing my mother incrementally from her dementia.

The second poem turned out to be so interesting that I decided I would write another post about it. I had it here, but removed it.

Today, Joni and Miriam clearly witnessed the challenge of my mother’s disease. Miriam told me that my mother occasionally didn’t recognize her and would become angry. She said, “Judy, at those moments I go outside and take a deep breath. Then I’ll go back in and she’ll recognize me again. She’ll ask me where I was all morning!”

This morning, all of us maintained an upbeat demeanor, which made the day poignant instead of sad. Perhaps that was why we had taken a lot of pictures. The picture I treasured most was one where my mother looked truly happy. A lot of times when I snapped a picture she looked fearful, so when I captured her smiling in any photo I was elated. I wanted to maintain memories of her smiling instead of countering her dementia and fear.

“All grown up”

In many ways, I feel almost the same today as when I was younger.

Joni knew I had gone with my family to the beach over the weekend. When she asked me if I went swimming in the ocean, the notion that I was like my younger self was dispelled! I used to be a consummate boogie boarder and risk taker. My mother would go crazy yelling at me to not swim so far out, and she would have the lifeguard booming for me to come in over a megaphone!

I told Joni the truth.

I said, “Are you kidding? You won’t catch me near the freezing water. I am not going to take any chances getting smashed by a wave! It’s too important for me to maintain my health at this stage in my life.”

I told her I took a nap listening to music and covered myself with a blanket so as not to get burned. I didn’t even wear a bathing suit. Such are the advantages of getting old!

With the expression of my honest feelings came the stark realization that I was all grown up now.

–

It was such a beautiful story for me knowing that Joni and I would always carry our history and the wisdom that came with growing older. Like a sister, she also deeply loved my mother. My new friend, Miriam, was another gift for me to treasure for the same reason. Our history had simply not been written yet.

The card Joni gave my mom for her birthday. My mom turned 86.

Earlier in the day, I had contained many feelings. Through writing, I had released them. For many years, I had forgotten how to feel as a result of grief and scar tissue.

So as my precious day faded into night, I decided that my life held artistry that was a challenge for me to capture with words.

I viewed the poignancy of my life as an exquisite palette that held infinite colors.

What was so beautiful for me now, was that I could finally experience a dazzling spectrum of emotion.