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January 19, 2007
Half an hour after the hands of her immediate family tossed cold dirt atop her coffin, those of family members who hadn't spoken to her in years are pulling at the plastic wrap shrouding enormous platters of cold cuts on the dining room table.

"Jesus Christ. Can't you fucking wait?" my sister says. She looks into the eyes of the one leading the charge -- a cousin on our dead grandmother's side, whose name we wouldn't know even if it were announced on a name tag. She stabs his eager hand with a fork.

Ahh, so there are his tears.