Toni Lepeska
When a Parent Dies
I stood frozen in the doorway of my parents’ walk-in closet again, my eyes darting from Mom’s red party dress to Dad’s sports jackets. Cleaning out a loved one’s closet is perhaps one of the most daunting tasks. I put it off for eight years. Here’s what I learned.
I don’t want to tell you that I’m grieving again. Not that I ever really stopped, but after eight years without my Mom, it wasn’t intruding into my every hour or day in that heartbreaking way. But lately, it has – in that heartbreaking way. In that way that hinders sleep. In that way that …
I stared into the sky at the black hole ringed with white-hot fire. I’d never seen anything like this before in my life. It was unearthly. Alien. Tears flooded my eyes. Awe flooded my soul. My mother taught me to gaze into the cosmos as a girl. She walked into the front yard, brought the …
Loss can feel like a great abyss, like my parents are a trillion miles in space, on a planet I’ve never seen, in a place I can neither fly to nor telephone. But death doesn’t end a relationship. Nor does it end a connection. No, it’s not the one I want. I want them here. …
I didn’t expect to take eight years cleaning out my parents’ home. But here I am. I also didn’t expect to feel walls of resistance erect inside of me, blocking my ability – or rather, my willingness – to throw away, give away or pack up their stuff. Propriety dictated I go over to their …
Do you feel safe? I don’t mean do you fear you’re in danger of being robbed or burgled or murdered. I mean do you feel like you are emotionally in a place of safety? I admit I haven’t always felt safe. In fact, one of the most unsafe times in my life was after my father …
What is the good of grief? Is there anything we can snatch from the jaws of death? Or is it a final defeat – senseless, purposeless and meaningless? My mother died eight years ago today. I remember feeling the sense of total defeat for her. I was still alive. I might rise from the ashes …
I thought I’d never reach the so-called “acceptance” stage of grief, and I didn’t want to. How dare anyone think I’d consent to my parents being ripped from my life? And yet I find myself in a strange place. After a multi-year strangle-hold on my parents’ belongings – which helped me feel close to them …
I want to share a poem with you that I heard again just before Mother’s Day. I first read it in 2011 at a memorial service for a teenager. She had died “out of order,” before her parents. Jessica was very much loved. Her family and friends crafted a garden at the church she attended …
