Philomina and our family are greatly blessed by you who have come to celebrate this Memorial Mass for her husband and our father, Ted Lepski.  Thank you all for standing beside us this sad, and happy, day.  
Dad was blessed to have three women in his life whom he dearly loved.  
Mom, mother of six, careful to raise us up in the faith, Army wife supporting Dad’s career, she gave us children many happy memories, often with her sisters and their families, the Skinners and Flemings, all this while battling the cancer that would take her from Dad much too early.  Dad truly and deeply loved mom.
The second was Nana, Mom’s Aunt, a true saint.  Nana gave her golden years to us, moving in with and caring for Dad and our family.  She carried on mom’s values. Nana’s strong faith in Jesus, her loving and happy spirit made our home the neighborhood gathering place; a warm and safe place to grow up.  Dad was ever grateful to Nana recalling her often with deep affection.  You will recognize Nana in heaven, she will be the one who Jesus is “hanging out” with.  
Then an angel was sent into dad’s life.  Lt. Col. Philomina Tardio would be Dad’s third great love.  She took dad’s hand in marriage in 1975. Philomina walked beside Dad as they loved and cared for each other these past 46 years.  For this Philomina, we, Dad’s children, simply cannot find the words to thank you for all you have done for him and for us.
Our grandfather Major William Lepski, two and a half years after emigrating from Poland joined the United States Army in 1913.  He served in both the Great War and the Second World War.   While he was stationed in Scofield Barracks, Hawaii, a horrific car accident took dad’s mother, Willamena.  His father, in critical condition, remained in the hospital the next six months. Dad, his sister and brother were shipped back to the states. For a time, they went from being Army Brats to being Army Orphans.
Dad grew up respecting his father and loving his stepmother.  They instilled in him the desire to love and serve God and Country.  Accepted at both the Naval Academy and the United States Military Academy during World War II, Dad joined the ranks of the “Long Gray Line” at West Point.
I have no idea what it is like to summon the courage to parachute from a plane, let alone, to jump from a plane with the intention of placing my life in harm’s way.  Literally, to wake up with my first thought, that before the sunset I will have to kill or be killed on the field of battle.  Our father, Ted Lepski, lived that reality more than once.  
Dad cringed at any mention of his service, courage or heroism.  He considered military service a privilege.  Countless hours of strenuous study and grueling physical training were required of Dad before he was given the privilege, to lead   other men, such as himself, into combat.  Dad was quietly proud to have been a graduate of the Military Academy and an Airborne Infantryman.  It was a hard earned and well-deserved pride.   However, his military career is not only what defined dad.
Kathy, Patty, Eileen, Billy and Mikey, we as his children, witnessed dad’s and mom’s day to day self-sacrifice to provide for our needs; spiritual, intellectual and physical.   As we now are parents, we better understand this sacrifice.  We all have separate recollections of what Mom and Dad gave up providing for us.  
A crack shot, Dad once served as the Rifle and Pistol Coach at Rutgers University.  This team evolved into the famed Queens Guard Drill team representing Rutgers University and ROTC both Nationally and Internationally.  To provide for us, Dad would use his marksmanship to supplement a military salary. He seldom lost a “turkey shoot” competition.  Later, Dad would pawn and eventually sell his rifles to help make ends meet.  
Dad did crazy things to make us laugh.  It was not unusual for him to come out of his bedroom in full dress uniform wearing white converse sneakers, or some other similar gag.  He loved witty jokes that were plays on words.  He always used humor to put people at ease and make them feel happy. Every store clerk, waiter or waitress experienced the twinkle in his eye, the smile on his face. At that moment they knew Dad genuinely cared for them as he shared some silly joke or two.  It used to embarrass us, but we grew to know this was his way of acknowledging and touching another person.   
One of my dearest memories was foundational in shaping the person I was to become.  One night, when stationed in Germany, dad woke me up told me to get dressed and help Mom in the kitchen.  Mom was filling one of those old, corrugated aluminum thermos drums with hot chocolate.  We loaded it onto the back of a jeep.  Mom and me road in the rear seat.  My job was to clean the cups and hand them to mom as she poured a hot drink for the sentries standing guard around the perimeter of the base.  Dad would be sure each soldier was OK, and they would be offered a warm mug of Coco from my beautiful mom.  Dad put me back to bed, once tucked in he leaned over me and whispered, “Remember Teddy, leaders are first servants”.  
Another memory is when Dad took on the oversight of the Army’s Computer System Command.  He came home with a stack of books from his waist to his chin.  He explained he did not know what he needed to know and intended to catch up quickly.  Dad had the ability to study a technical manual, concept to concept, one chapter building on another retaining all he read.  He also had an ability to find men who knew the subject matter better than he based upon their practical experience.  He told me later he took his new command (mostly civilian DOD employees) out for few drinks.  Not long into the evening, dad discerned who would be his guide and human “lie-detector”.  Dad would have him sit next to him at conference tables and kick him under table whenever someone was in error or was being less than untruthful.
In all things Dad undertook, he studied hard, wanting to know the depth of a thing, then applied this knowledge to the best of his ability.  Photography grew from “snap shots” into a full color film developing dark room in the attic.  Later, digital photography captured his imagination, he soon became a “wizard of the pixel” mastering the “Photoshop” software.  He built his first computer from a “Heathkit”.  His office now houses a small network of computers.  Woodworking was the same, the garage became a fine woodworking shop that turned out beautiful pieces of furniture.  A lover of classical music, the orchestration, arrangement, and the nuance of each individual instrument within the whole composition intrigued and delighted him.  Dad was most happy when sharing and teaching what he had discovered and learned.  Math, Music, Computers, Photography or Woodwork would be discussed hour upon hour.  Those were the best of times.
Exploring his faith in God was no exception.  A familiar site was to see my father meditating over his “dog-eared” book of prayers.  The more he learned about the attributes and character of God the more his fear of our awesome God grew.  As Dad got older and his body began to manifest in pain the damage done to joints and sinews, long ago pushed too hard as an airborne infantryman, he became less able to move independently.  Getting up, walking and sitting back down become a torture.  Resigned to a life primarily sitting hours and days behind his desk, Dad began to brood over his failures, real and perceived.  
You see, our father’s faith was in the only true and living God.  It was not a belief in a man-made religion or philosophy.  Dad accepted the truth; he would soon face the almighty God and would have to take responsibility for his failures.   Like Isaiah, who cried out, “Woe is me, I am ruined, I am a man of unclean lips”, and like the apostle John, who on the island of Patmos, fell to his face in fear and awe, God was all to real to Dad.   He was anticipating the coming meeting with God with mounting concern.  In the hospital, he admitted this fear to Philomina.
Prior to the heart attack that sent him to the hospital, his discussions centered on what love is and how to love.  Especially, how can we, how do we love God “with all our heart, and all our soul and all our strength”?  How can we, how do we love our neighbor as we love ourselves?   Indeed, what is love?  Dad was hard on himself regarding this.  It was difficult for Dad to accept God loved him.
Ironically, his life example of leadership as a servant first, reflected Jesus’ service of sacrificial love.  Dad’s whispered “leaders serve” made it easy for me to understand why Jesus would kneel to wash His disciple’s feet.  Dad’s life of kindness and giving to others made it easy for me to understand Jesus’ love of tax gatherers and sinners such as me.  That Jesus would regard my sinful state and still want to have a relationship with me.   Dad’s example of putting his life on the line for others, made it easier for me to understand that moment, when in obedience to the Father, Jesus would say “Not My will but Yours” and then go to the cross.  Dad’s life example was one of love.  My father’s example made it easier for me to believe God loved me and to accept Jesus’ death on my behalf. 
Dad seemed to accept the judgement of God, but not so much the love and forgiveness of God.  I wanted Dad to know and feel God’s love.  June and my last discussion with Dad reviewed what he thought and felt about an article I had mailed to him.  Published in The Atlantic magazine, it was titled, “Growing my faith in the face of death” by Tim Keller.  It spoke about resting in God’s love now, in each moment. Rather than toil for a future moment of love to be experienced later.  As we all do, Dad had it backward, it is not that we love, it is that God first loved us.  It was a wonderful conversation.  Later, it seemed, both to June and me, a more peaceful and reflective discussion than we ever had with Dad.  
Soon after, Dad was in the hospital.  There God gave me a memory I will always hold in my heart, I was to witness the beauty and depth of Dad’s love for Philomina and her deep love for dad.  In the ER Dad had gone 36 hours away from Phil.  I pushed Philomena’s wheelchair into Dad’s room.  For them it seemed everything else was blocked out, nothing else mattered.  Aware of no one else or nothing other than each other, Phil reached out and took my dad’s outstretched hands.  Tenderly dad said, “I love you Phil, I miss you so much”.  Phil said, “I looked for you in bed this morning you weren’t there, and I looked for you in your office last night and you weren’t there, I love and miss you so much, Ted.”  This sweet tenderness between them confirmed to me my father did know what love is.
I witnessed my father weep three times in my life, the last time was when Philomina was in the heart hospital, Dad wept at the thought of losing Philomina.  The first time was a day like today.  It was at Mom’s funeral.  The time had come to go from the funeral home to the church.  I was sent to collect Dad.  I found him alone draped over mom’s casket weeping.  He stood up, turned and saw me.  Collecting himself he came alongside, and we walked out together.  Placing his arm over my shoulder he quietly said, “Now we must go about the business of living”.  Were Dad here, he would say that to each of us right now.
My strong hope and confidence are, that Dad is now indeed part of the “great cloud of witnesses” referred to in the letter to the Hebrews.  I can almost hear him admonishing, “let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith…”
Let us pray; Blessed be the Lord.  He gives and He takes away.  Blessed be the Holy name of the Lord!  Amen.


Eleanora & Mortimer: We will always remember Ted for his service to our great country and memories we hand with him at Harrogate, may he rest in piece.

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Theodore J. Lepski

August 3, 1924 – June 23, 2021

D'Elia Funeral Home

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