Toni Lepeska
When a Parent Dies
Surviving the anniversaries & holidays that trigger grief
I found the homemade Mother’s Day card inside a box of her things, and I read what I’d written as a teenager. “If I didn’t have you what could I do?” At her house among her things, I thought, This is the question I’ve lived with since she died.
Christmas won’t ever be the same after a parent dies and neither will the messages within some of our beloved songs. In the thick of grief, we may decide to rip off the volume knob, ban any Christmas tune. Or we may sing along. Whatever serves our healing is the right thing to do. Yes, …
The pandemic. The political tension. The demands of social distancing on a holiday designed for togetherness. I thought I'd republish last year's blog this Thanksgiving - because we all could use a refresher on being grateful when circumstances are pulling us apart.
Thanksgiving is the time of year that we taste our grief. Literally. I mean, no one makes homemade cornbread dressing like Mom. But … she isn’t here anymore to make it. It cannot be the same … So, like any perfectly sentimental daughter, I always make dressing like Mom made dressing. I use her recipe. …
What happens when we don’t feel safe anymore? When uncertainty rules the day? When life is turned upside down? The pandemic qualifies as a world-changing event in terms of individuals, families and nations, but even a virus cannot hold a candle to my personal world-turned-upside-down event.
Expressing our grief through storytelling deepens our understanding of grief. And that deepens our potential to heal. I’ll be part of a podcast this coming Saturday, the day before Father’s Day, to encourage anyone, experienced writers or beginners, to utilize this important tool within their grief journey. The authors you’ll hear will be reading their …
Daddy was my first Valentine. Superman was my second. I cleaned out my parents’ house after their deaths and found a baseball card-type picture of Superman. I’d scrawled inside a cartoon bubble “I love you.” I spent the next four decades looking for a real, huggable Superman. For a man to sweep me up and …
How do we survive the longest night of the soul? To whom or what can we turn? What hope is there to latch onto when our lives feel battered, damaged beyond repair? I pondered the longest nights of my soul the morning of the literal longest night of the year, December 21st, in the Northern …
As I tried to figure out how to put new life together after my parents’ death, I was tasked with figuring out what to do with their voluminous collection of cookbooks and recipes. It was Christmastime when I got to them. I’d held onto their home eight years, and I was still sorting not only …
I hauled the boxes down from the attic, opened the lid and picked out one of the objects inside. It had belonged to my parents. I held it as if it may break, and then I caressed it. I smiled. And then I cried. My mother and father felt so close. And so far away. …
I want to thank you, each of this blog’s followers and readers, for your steadfast support and insightful comments. If you are new to this platform – and I know some folks have signed on recently – I want to extend a personal welcome. You are noticed. I can hardly believe this blog has been …
I want to tell you that my daddy turned 81 this week, that I made him a German chocolate cake, treated him to a big buffet lunch and gave him a beautiful card. But that would be misleading. The truth is, he would have turned 81 – the same age Mom was at death – …
I remember the shock of the World Trade Center coming down, and I remember the unifying comfort of shared, national grief. We huddled in front of television news broadcasts together. We lighted candles together. We stuck magnetic America flags and troop support ribbons on our cars. A sea of grief expression. This week, 18 years …
Our sense of security is often rooted in our fathers. After my dad died, I called out to God spontaneously, “Send me a protector!” Where do we find that sense of safety that we lost? I caution not to go looking for it in a romance. That was my first go-to. I did not realize …
I remember the disturbing silence of my mother’s electric lungs. The whoosh of the machine that supplied oxygen to her had been quieted. She lay motionless, her eyes closed, the oxygen tubing pushed away. She’d never breathe again. The muffled voices of a hospice nurse and my husband droned in the kitchen. A hush settled …
It’s appropriate this week to thank you – to offer gratitude – to you. I’m thankful for reader friends and for those who support my writing in any way. Whether it’s by following my blog or sharing a post, hitting “like” on social media, by showing up at a book signing, or by simply offering …
I will never see Halloween the same. I loved it as a child, but once you come face to face with real death, images of ghosts, ghouls and skeletons aren’t playthings anymore. I’m not trying to rain on the Halloween parade. Really. And I’m not such a stiff that I don’t participate. A few years …
I expected a grand attack of grief upon the 10th anniversary of my father’s death, but it passed with a poised emotional response at the cemetery and a handful of flowers. Not so this time. Next month marks the 12th anniversary of Dad’s death. And the ninth anniversary of Mom’s. And the 1st anniversary I’ll …
Do you ever feel like a dead loved one is near? I realized a distinct intensity to the feeling this Christmastime. It was without explanation, and then in less than 24 hours, I understood why. I don’t believe in visitations from the dead, nor should we seek them out. On the other hand, I believe …
Each Christmas is the first Christmas for someone – the first Christmas without mom or dad. Or without a husband or wife or child. Or without a grandparent or uncle or best friend. All the carols, all the joy, all the tinsel. It feels like a dagger to the chest. The loss of who isn’t …
I sensed a need to be in touch with my parents, and so I got out the greeting cards. I possibly have one of the largest collections known to man. I collected them from throughout the house. Over the past eight years, I discovered them inside dresser drawers, on top of the coffee table and …
I call July “death month.” My parents died three years apart, both in July. I’ve been through lots of Julys now, and I’ve noticed three ways I’ve responded. I think they can help you, too.
I discovered the homemade Mother’s Day card inside a box of her things and read what I’d written at the bottom as a young teenager. “If I didn’t have you what could I do?” Indeed, I told myself, sitting in her house among her things, This is the question I’ve lived with since she died. …
I once wrote that each Christmas gets better and better after losing someone you love to the grave. I meant well, but I was wrong. Stay tuned. There’s hope in this story. Last year, a great pall fell upon me for reasons I cannot pinpoint. I was unhappy with Christmas. Go away. …
