A Story that Didn’t Make “the Cut,” A Recipe for the PMS-ing Soul, and Facing Imperfection.

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“I wished I could breathe for him,” Omma wrote to me many years later.

Grandpa died the following day. He left behind a series of cassette tapes—recordings of his voice when he had been stronger. He called them “Prayers for my family,” each one labeled for each person, even one for me: “Eldest Daughter of Lee Family, Joanne.”

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