Toni Lepeska
When a Parent Dies
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 …
