Jip’s younger brother Chao, his wife Lek, and I went to a ceremony remembering Jip’s dad in her village last weekend. It was the first time I’d been to Ban Krud without Jip.
In an odd way it also felt like my home. I couldn’t walk a hundred yards without being invited in for a chat. Jip’s older brother, Jieb, hosted a barbecue for some neighbors. Everyone there remembered me from our wedding ten years ago.
Jip’s mom and sisters-in-law put together a lunch for the nine monks who chanted in memory of Jip’s dad. Jieb lit the candles, Chao offered the monks first helpings of food, and I handed out envelopes containing small gifts. Just as at Chao and Lek’s wedding last year, I was considered part of the family in an easy, natural way. My role was to do what Jip would have done had she been there.
Ban Krud is a lovely place to be from. The ancient trees along the road near the railroad station are as welcoming an entrance as can be found anywhere. They’re also full of brilliant birds—no wonder Jip became a serious birder.
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