Walking Paths to Self and Family in Darjeeling
In Darjeeling, the landscape and my familyscape seemed to be living, breathing beings, the paths like veins and the stories like the flow of blood.
Did Ann sleep well?
would walk, as we carried our individual stories—and our family story—forward.
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In my grief over my grandmother’s death, I derived solace from the idea that something could still be done to benefit her, that she hadn’t left us but was just in a different place.
I felt sure my grandmother’s stories, her faith in marriage, had no bearing on my life plan.
When my grandmother died, lamas stayed for five days next to her body, guiding her through bardo by reading from The Tibetan Book of the Dead.
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What I can do for now is to give back in ways that may seem extraneous, but bring delight to the recipient. So, I make frozen desserts.