myjourneysinsight

I KNOW YOU CAN’T STAY

Posted on July 8, 2011 by Judy

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I am sharing my practice guitar parts before I record my new song with George. I have decided on a preliminary title of “I WANT TO SET YOU FREE.” Okay, this is a first for me. I have interwoven THREE separate guitar tracks in stereo on this first song. I’ll share the lyrics soon. Click the blue links below to play audio.

I WANT TO SET YOU FREE – 3 GUITAR INSTRUMENTAL

I WANT TO SET YOU FREE – 2 GUITAR INSTRUMENTAL

This picture of me dancing with my father was taken at Cheryl’s wedding (I was the matron of honor).

When I last wrote for my blog a week ago, I was off to the hospital where my father had been transported with a blood infection. Currently, my father has two conditions that require surgery. He will continue to be at high risk for infection until he has surgery to remove two, large kidney stones. His prostate is also severely enlarged. My father is not considered strong enough to have surgery at this time. It certainly is a “catch 22,” since he cannot seem to get stronger to have surgery with his recurrent infections.

Yesterday, he was released from the hospital. He has an appointment with another urologist next week for a second opinion, if he is strong enough to be transported.

My father is very unhappy and is not enjoying life at all. He refuses to speak with my mother and to anyone who calls him on the phone. He says he is not in pain, but it is clear he has detached from everything around him.

I had an interesting discussion with my father. He felt I should not tell my mother when he passes on (if she happens to still be alive). He said it would be best for her not to attend his funeral. My mother misses him and expresses a lot of fear and sadness with her progressing dementia.

In spite of the continued deterioration of my parents, I still feel joyful and my life continues to be magical.

I’m with my childhood friend, Joni, in this picture taken outside of an open mic venue where I regularly perform on Monday nights.

I have been patiently waiting to reconnect with a special editor who has my book in her hands. I still have at least seven hours of audio to record for my book once it is finalized. All of my doubt has gone, and I feel certain I will be successful with my book. This has caused me to enjoy my journey even more.

While I was waiting to hear from this editor, I’ve been deleting anything I’ve written about my children on my blog. I’ve also decided not to number my posts anymore.

My energy and my focus has also gone onto my music. I definitely feel that I am leading a “musical life.” There is truly no way to describe how that feels. It is something I probably experienced when I was much younger, though I do not remember too much about it.

All I know is that my soul is dancing to numerous melodies that play throughout my day.

This picture was taken before watching fireworks with my family on the 4th of July. I have cropped out my children who do not want me to mention them on my blog. I can share that one of my kid’s big shoe is right in front of me. I am holding a portable Scrabble game.

“The birth of a new song”

I have very much enjoyed improving vocals on many of my older songs. Last week I wrote about my melancholy after recording my song “How We Don’t Care.” I felt Cheryl’s presence and her voice reminded me that it was time for me to fill my “empty space.”

I would describe the empty space as a part of my soul that is reserved for discovering a beautiful song. Initially, it was for “rediscovering” prior compositions, but since those have all been done – now my empty space awaits new inspiring melodies.

With Cheryl’s comforting encouragement, I surprised myself by quickly composing something exquisite. It flowed very easily and the melody was so beautiful that it captivated me.

Comparing the composing of a song to giving birth is an excellent metaphor. As my song develops, it feels as if it is actually growing inside of me. Soon it becomes so large, I cannot contain it and cannot manage to do other things in my life until my song is released. Releasing my song means that the song is finalized and that process is quite emotionally painful.

Once my song is completed, it feels like a new child that I tenderly examine with total awe and amazement. I spend a lot of time learning all the nuances and fine points I can about my song so that it becomes the best it can be.

For this new song, the verses came first. The process was magical and could best be described as a soft hum that became louder and louder. Soon a symphony of chords and notes filled my mind and my heart. I could not concentrate on anything else, nor sing any of my other songs with conviction.

When I composed two, guitar tracks and listened to my song I was filled with complete joy and fulfillment. It took time for the lyrics to settle in for me. Although I am eager to imagine my song beautifully arranged by George, I don’t want to rush and make a mistake I’ve made before of recording it in the wrong key.

I continue to sing the melody over and over to allow it to become finalized for me.

I can share the guitar instrumental that is the basis for this song, but I am saving the lyrics for later on when they are more certain for me.

PEACHES LESSON 7/5/11 (We discuss my new song)

My lyrics were written when I came home late at night after seeing my father in the hospital. The very first lines to my song are:

You’re hanging on as night turns to dawn

I know you can’t stay and soon you’ll be gone

As my song developed, I generalized it to express feelings I have about how I might feel seeing my children leave when they are grown.

I also remember Jason as I sing my song. I am amazed that I have a new “goodbye song” with a completely different theme than my prior song “Saying Goodbye.”

My new song contains acceptance about the process of seeing someone I love depart.

I believe that is a huge step in my evolution as a human.

Life is all about arrivals and departures.

© 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", acceptance, acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, composing, creativity, guitar, inspiration, letting go, loss, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, parenting, Set you free, singing, songwriting, voice lessons, writing | Leave a comment

ALL MY LIFE I HAD HOPED YOU WOULD STAY

Posted on June 30, 2011 by Judy

I am writing less and working on my music. Recently, I’ve created a beautiful new arrangement of my song, “How We Don’t Care.” My father has improved and might soon be released from the hospital back to his facility. Since some of what I’ve been doing musically ties into this story, I am sharing some discussion with my voice teacher here. Clicking the blue links play audio:

PEACHES LESSON 6/27/11

PEACHES LESSON 7/5/11

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When we were older, life was busy and it was hard for me to remember how close we once were. When Cheryl died, it was easy to imagine that she was still alive and simply far away.

Sometime there were “certain moments” when I could hear her voice. Her voice was so recognizable and it was always comforting. I could even hear the cackle in it like when she was young. The smile in her voice was like music and it filled my mind. Then it traveled straight to my heart and spread comfort throughout my body.

Those “certain moments” were fleeting and sparse. But it was always music that could bring Cheryl back to me. I wrote many songs expressing love and friendship, but then there was a certain, painful song. It was a song about deep disappointment and it was very haunting for me. The feelings evoked by my song were very familiar and repeated with many other people in my life.

Even though my song was called “How We Don’t Care” the truth was I cared so much that it was painful. When I had recorded my song the day before, the beauty of the acoustic guitar parts alone caused my heart to soar. The musical of my life continued because when I listened to my song I fell into a state of wonderment.

It was today when I met with a special woman who was going to help me on my journey. This was someone I knew was sent my way, and it reinforced that my journey was amazing and magical. I had even allowed this special woman to see my tears.

When I left the meeting, I was so happy but there wasn’t anyone I felt I wanted to share the experience with. I missed my mother. I contained my joy. But when I listened to my song, the tears began to flow. In my darkened bedroom I cried. It was at that moment that my friend, Cheryl, returned. It became a “certain moment.”

Emotion was something I hadn’t felt for such a long time. Allowing it was very important and I was grateful to feel. Cheryl knew that my tears contained happiness. Her encouraging voice reminded me that I would never be alone anymore. And then, her voice reminded me that I had forgotten about my guitar. After Cheryl’s voice quieted I stood up.

I needed to address the empty space inside. I went into my bathroom and my guitar awaited me. I explored and found new fingerings; beautiful chords began to appear. Beginnings were exciting, and there was no rush. I would discover more later on. As I put away my guitar, the space was no longer as empty.

The phone call I received told me that my father now had sepsis and would be taken to the nearby hospital emergency room by ambulance. He already had pneumonia, as well. I spoke with him before he was transported and he was looking forward to my company. Every minute of my day counted so deeply. With strength and emotional understanding, I left in the summer twilight to go to the hospital.

I visited with him and his pleasure and awareness of my presence was quite beautiful. I shared every detail about my day. My honesty and openess flowed easily and there was no containment. It was very late when I left.

It might have been an emotional day in my musical life but as I walked out of the hospital, I put my arms outward from my body. I imagined I could fly.

Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, childhood friendship, composing, creativity, Daily Life, death, death of a friend, father's illness, Friendship, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, guitar, humor daily life, loss, loss of a friend, lovesong, lyric development, lyric writing, lyrics, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, voice lessons | Leave a comment

MY HEART FELT SO FULL

Posted on June 25, 2011 by Judy

I have missed writing for my blog, but there are only so many hours for me in a day. Because I’ve missed doing artwork, I played around with Photoshop filters above! In addition to recording and editing my stories. I’ve been singing my heart out. I share a clip from a recent voice lesson with Peaches Chrenko discussing my songs. Clicking the blue link plays audio:

LESSON WITH PEACHES #1 6-2-11

Since I truly don’t have time to write much, this post will serve as an update and also an opportunity for me to share some new pictures.

GOOD LIST:

I was given a connection (another divine coincidence – such timing!) to an editor who could help me with my book. We are meeting for lunch next week and I will be giving her all of my audio files and a manuscript to read. This woman knows many people in the industry and could certainly be helpful. I was told she is honest and trustworthy, which is far more important for me than anything else.

My good friend, Sonia, attended my Border’s performance last Sunday. We had a lovely time.

Judy & Sonia at Border’s

My son took this picture for me. It might be blurry, but it definitely captures my happiness!

This week, a very good friend from out of town whom I haven’t seen in years will be coming to see me play at Border’s. She will be meeting someone she hasn’t seen for 35 years. Another friend of mine recognized her from one of my wedding photos and they knew each other back when they were 17. I’m so excited; I can hardly stand it!

WIth my audio book, I am growing closer and closer to having something done that I can share. I am thrilled!

I love my newest song recording of So Real and plan to redo all of my prior song arrangements now that I’ve improved so much.

I can’t share anything about my children, but I can say they have all been adjusting to mommy vacating the “mommy premises.” It’s amazing how much they are now able to do for themselves!

Today, my parents saw each other for the first time since my father was in the hospital well over two months ago.

My father has not given up on life.

My parents about fifteen years ago.

BAD LIST:

Nothing I want to think about!

I played my guitar and visited with my mom in the garden at her facility last week.

FIRST EMAIL UPDATE I SENT OUT THIS MORNING:

My brother, Norm, took my dad for some tests with his urologist. In addition to his large, kidney stones, his prostate is extremely enlarged.

My father says he does not want to live out his life with a catheter. He wants to have surgery. The urologist explained that it would be risky (blood loss again) and my father needed to get much stronger. I think he’s motivated and I see him trying a little harder to sit up more. There are a few possible procedures that could avoid surgery and shrink his prostate, but the urologist is not that optimistic. My dad will be having a procedure (something like “microwaving”) in the next few weeks.

My father has refused to speak with my mother for the last three weeks. He says he “can’t handle it.” I told him he absolutely needs to speak with my mom occasionally. Like lecturing a child, I told him he needs to make time to call her. My mother’s dementia has gotten worse and she imagined he was dying; she was hysterical and inconsolable one day. I received two, concerning calls yesterday. The first one informed me that my mom slid out of her wheelchair onto the floor at lunch time. She was fortunately not hurt. The second one was from Miriam, who told me my mom threw her hearing aides ($4,000) into the trash can – luckily a nurse noticed they were missing and found them.

I brought my guitar and played for my mom and Miriam on Thursday morning – it was a beautiful day.

Yesterday, I was elated to hear my dad finally called my mom. He also told my brother that he wanted to join us at our weekly lunch – that means we go to IHop (my father’s favorite place). So today, my parents will once again be reunited! It’s been over two months since my father fell ill and they’ve seen each other. I plan to take pictures.

Love, Judy

My mother was happy today, even though my dad ignored her.

SECOND EMAIL UPDATE SENT OUT AFTER LUNCH:

I’ll let pictures tell my story.

My dad refused to acknowledge my mom or say anything to her. He was quite morose, but it was huge for him to have left his facility. He wouldn’t smile and didn’t want me to take any pictures of him with my mom. I did anyway. I think he enjoyed himself, even though he didn’t show it.

He told me today to give notice about discontinuing his independent room in a cluster home. He said he cannot be alone or go back there. At some point, I might see if my mom can move over to his facility – but I plan to wait awhile since she’s stable right now where she is.

Glad I could share!

Love, Judy

Only a week ago, my dad spoke his memories into a tape recorder for me. The highlight was his telling me how he became engaged to my mother. He said, “I knew she was the one for me the moment I met her!”

A am so, so blessed to have such a wonderful caregiver – Miriam!

A picture of me with my older brother, Norm. The sign behind me says, “One Way.” That’s interesting for me!

Judy and Shirley in the sunshine.

Tagged "sandwich generation", acoustic guitar, Aging Parents, composing, creativity, Daily Life, guitar, humor daily life, Music, Ordinary Life, original songs, performing, singing, songwriting, voice lessons, writing | 1 Comment

LIFE AND DEATH ARE A MYSTERY

Posted on June 14, 2011 by Judy

I have characterized my transformation from a year ago as one of going from being zombie-like to joyful.

However, recently I realized that it was not the only transformation I have ever experienced. As a result of grief, I was forever changed. I have never delved into describing those changes before.

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In order to better convey loneliness and solitude, I projected myself into the experience of grief when I wrote the lyrics for “Alone.” This was despite the fact that I was not really exposed to death until I was older. When my grandmother died, I was more affected by seeing my mother’s deep grief than feeling my own grief over my grandmother’s death. My mother had tremendous fear about dying and never attended a funeral until she was in her 40’s. Somehow even though I was young, I felt like grief was something I could imagine and write about; it was part of life.

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Later in my life, when I did experience grief, I was forever changed. The horror of grief slaughtered my innocence and enlightened me about death in a way that was far beyond what my lyrics imagined. I mourned the loss of my innocence for a long time, but with my healing I decided that I preferred my enlightenment.

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I wrote my song “Alone” when I was young and unscathed. Not long after I healed, I wrote a story to express how experiencing grief changed me.

I drew this in high school. I imagined death as something “spooky” when I was younger.

LIFE AND DEATH

She always felt like life and death were mysterious. She knew that every human could clearly see life and death if they looked carefully, but most people preferred not to. One day, she acquired special vision, and after that she saw everything differently.

In the past, life and death were ambiguous and intangible, but now she saw them both clearly. Even when she was innocent, she had always embraced seeing life. It was visible with the radiant beams that emitted from a person’s smile. She was especially familiar with eyes that danced and sparkled, like her youngest son. Eyes that sparkled also reminded her of her friend who had died. She realized that was something she had loved so much about her friend. It reminded her also of how much she missed her.

When she acquired her special vision, it was far more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. She desperately wanted to give it back. She wished she could go back to being the way she was before. She did not want to notice what was clearly before her. It was far too painful, because she had always avoided looking at death. Death was ugly.

At first, she was haunted by her special vision that allowed her to see death. Because she had seen her beloved child dead, she was in shock. His image in death filled her waking moments and her dreams. Because of that, she began to picture how other people she loved might look like dead. The image of her other children with open eyes and indigo lips caused her heart to pound and she felt as if it might even burst from the agony.

Then she became angry and was no longer afraid. Although she had experienced a horrible thing and felt as if she had also died, she knew there was a reason she was still alive despite her pain.

It was then when she developed her special vision. She didn’t know it at the time and she didn’t embrace it. But it was there. Now she collected every moment of life whenever she could. In her children’s eyes she especially could see life. The beauty of the world around her set an exquisite stage and she saw life everywhere she looked.

One day, she became aware of her special vision, and suddenly it all made sense. Now she understood that seeing life and death around her was far preferable to being innocent and growing older without noticing things. She still hated the ugliness of death. But she accepted it because now she understood that having her special vision was valuable.

The day she had her realization, she went to visit both her elderly parents. She felt calm and peaceful. In the warm sunshine she sat next to her father. She expressed her love and asked him to share his memories so she could record them. He did.

She could not see the future and had no idea about it. But being with her father reminded her of death. His face was gaunt and as she looked at him, she felt like she could look through him. She pictured him as though he were a skeleton. Only moments before, she had the same feelings while looking at her mother, too.

Her father’s eyes were glazed; perhaps it was the drugs he now craved or his pain. He was detached and she realized her father was not really with her. It was then when she decided he was getting ready to go somewhere.

Her parents were not together. However, they were both leaving her at the same time.

Later on, as she went about her daily existence, she marveled that even though she might have seen impending death, the ugliness was no longer a horror for her. Instead she appreciated her special vision and was grateful and inspired about how much more she treasured her life.

Email correspondence yesterday:

I have a premonition that my dad is checking out. I plan to visit him tomorrow and bring my digital recorder. I never have gotten information that would be helpful for a eulogy for both him and my mom. I could be wrong, though. There’s no way of knowing.

On Wednesday, he will be having a picc line installed because it has become quite difficult for any IV’s to be inserted due to his collapsed veins. His catheter cannot come out and he will be having tests done to see why he cannot urinate on his own.

Judy

Don’t know that this is exactly a good time to take out a recorder and get info from your dad…he is very smart and will know exactly what you are doing…which will lower his spirits further 😦 …Sam

As far as getting information from him for a eulogy, this conversation we both planned on having is way overdue. It’s not about anticipating he’ll die very soon; it’s about letting him share his memories of childhood so that they can live on for him. He loves to talk about his army days, etc. He knows I want info for a eulogy, too, but it’s a reality that the day will come and of course, we don’t know when it will be. I could certainly say something general and bland, but I would love for him to give me some meaningful stories to share. I think that’s something that would lift his spirits and also it would be productive when we’re together.

But thanks for sharing your thoughts about this. Sadly, his situation has become this serious out of his own neglect for his health. He never addressed his prostate when it was a problem years ago. This last episode was caused by his stubborn refusal to consider that he was ill. I have no regrets that I didn’t force him into the hospital that night either. I have tried to be as respectful as possible of his wishes, while at the same time balancing my concern.

Judy

Email correspondence today:

I had a sad visit with my father today. His eyes were hazy from Vicodin and he was very short tempered. He was gaunt and skeletal and it was hard for me to see him that way. I allowed my father to speak to me about his life and I brought a digital recorder with me today. It was very good as I recorded many of his memories. I wish I had also done that sooner with my mother, but it is too late now.

Judy

If my kids ever show up with a digital recorder and want to record my memories…I’m running away…and finding a new doctor!! …Sam

Hi Sam,

Your message has me cracking up! I’m such a procrastinator, so I’m proud of myself. I have wanted to do this for years. My dad might live until he’s 100, how do I know when he’ll depart? It’s just a good idea to be prepared. As I write this I realize I’m a little hypocritical. I haven’t gotten around to writing anything for myself, like a will. I’d better get to that one of these days!

I wish he had a new doctor, though, like you! J

Judy

Ps. Don’t worry; our kids might never want to hear about our memories. Mine sure don’t. Oh yeah, they can just look up my blog if they ever “wonder!”