Toni Lepeska
When a Parent Dies
You never forget the roar. I was 8 years old when a tornado terrorized my family as we tried to survive in perhaps the worst possible structure to shelter us. I was tucked under the covers when the bedroom light came on, and the next thing I knew, my mother had pulled me out of …
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. …
What if you could hear your deceased parent tell a story you’ve never heard? What if you could discover thoughts they’d never expressed? What if you could get perspective they never gave you in life? If a parent or another loved one left behind a diary or journal – or even letters or tales of …
Under the bowels of the dressing room sink, I discovered a half-completed painting, a sort of portrait of an unfinished life It wasn’t the last evidence I’d find of a life interrupted. Nor the last grief trigger to cross my path. I found Mom’s half-done crossword puzzles. Her hand-drawn plans for a circular driveway that …
Delegating what to do with what the dead leave behind is a common ritual for the living. And when it’s your own loved one? In each slip of a paper and garment is a memory. Or a smell. A joy followed by a grief. For some, the task is too painful. They assign the job …
What do you hold onto that makes you feel close to your deceased loved one? Is it a shirt with their smell? A love letter? Or maybe it’s not an object but a shared cause or creed you foster. Connection. We all seek it but in different ways. I believe it is a critical component …
I helped my 10-year-old friend clean and organize her room. As she lobbied to keep a shoe that was about to fall apart, I saw shades of myself in her. And a characteristic of my mother. Her name, which I’m withholding, means moonlight. So I’ll call her Moonlight. An artist, Moonlight saw value in things …
I bet you inherited books. Maybe a Bible. Or a series of recipe books. Or maybe like me, you inherited enough books to fill a small library, too many to ever read during your busy life. What are you to do with them all? I suggest you examine them closely before deciding to haul them …
Death strips us all possessions. So it isn’t surprising that, yes, my parents left behind all their keys – a mass of keys that I combed through on the anniversary of Dad’s passing last week. Door keys. Car keys. Keys to the post office box I still rent. Keys to who knows what. They didn’t …
