Toni Lepeska
When a Parent Dies
Are you living with an eye toward legacy? What is legacy all about anyway? I think those of us who’ve had a parent die have thought about this word at least a little. And maybe we’ve wondered where it fits into our lives. The dictionary says legacy is anything handed down from the past, as …
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.
Give yourself credit. Even if you aren’t doing grief like your mother, best friend or neighbor. Even if you haven’t been out of bed in a week. Even if you still collapse in tears recalling how you missed your father’s last Christmas.
We’ve been in the fire almost a year now. The pandemic burned away life as we knew it. But in addition to a collective grief, we’ve fought our own personal, devastating fires. Do you feel like your life is burning down around you today? Been there. A few times in my life I’ve felt like …
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, …
I knew Mom would die, and I knew I couldn’t prevent it, but the one thing I asked God is that I’d be with her when she took her last breath. But I was not with her. This hurt as much as the fact that she was dead. I felt I had devastatingly failed her. …
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 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, aka, stuffing, in just the way Mom made dressing. …
I ordered four catfish filets, a handful of shrimp and a bag of ice, unaware that I would be transported from the Kroger fish counter across time and death. The moment happened when an employee awkwardly handed me the plastic bag of ice, open. I held the bag by its ends and twirled it. I …
