Toni Lepeska
When a Parent Dies
Value. We put a price on everything. On houses. Cars. Jewels. Stocks. Milk. Eggs. Our morning hit of java. We also put a price on people. On relationships. And on ourselves. We treat everything according to how much we value it. Or how we value him or her. We will protect our person from all …
I lifted the piece of plastic under the gutter drain and plucked a worm from the damp soil. I walked to the little girl at the end of my parents’ driveway, the gateway to 13 acres of beauty. She was visiting with her parents, the people buying the property that’s been in my family 45 …
No two people could be as different as my brother and me, but even if siblings share a lot of similarities, the death of their parents and dividing of an estate can be a wedge between them. I’ve heard numerous stories about money and possessions segregating families into warring factions. Accusations fly like nuclear missiles, …
What is the single biggest component of finding healing within grief, besides expressing it? Embracing the new. Inviting what’s next into our lives. Believing we can love and laugh again. Today is the first day of spring. I hadn’t noticed until I received a life-changing phone text this afternoon, and then I realized the irony. …
What a waste land. A dirty, wet road led past 15-foot-tall piles of car parts, discarded machinery and crushed appliances. I situated the truck bed under a crane that dwarfed the vehicle. And me. As a menacing claw reached inside and crunched my parents’ old dryer in its grip, I leaned away from the rear …
All this time, I thought I’d given the funeral home the wrong lipstick color. I never was much of one to wear makeup, though I’d grown up seeing my mother paste it on before the rare occasions she’d leave the house. So I didn’t pay attention to her lip shade. Itty bitty nonessential details gain …
I am not a hoarder. I am attached to stuff, but I am not a hoarder. Now before you say “the lady doth protest too much,” I must explain. Before I asked whether I was a hoarder, I asked whether my parents were hoarders. I inherited all their stuff. A lot of stuff. Charged with …
I found a parking lot and no trespassing signs on the 8-foot-tall chain link fence. Their home was gone. I clutched the wire, pressed my face against it, and hung there like a forlorn child. A piece of my parents I wanted to touch was out of reach. Actually, …
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 …
