The gathering was just as I had imagined. My deceased husband, speechless, my mother-in-law, a river of tears pouring out her blue eyes, my son, head bent on a videogame, whose vibrating ping ping thundered in the hollow mortuary chamber. My eyes rested on my husband’s picture and his sneering face. I sneered him back, asking him mutely how he enjoyed his last meal. I turned to look at my son again and felt the muscles in my face relaxing, tension releasing. My mother-in-law came closer and between one sob and the other told me not to cry. I brought a hand to my face and felt it wet. I thanked her and told her to join for dinner after the funeral. Nearby, my son heard me and raised his head. He pulled my sleeve and whispered in my ear. “Mom, please do not to cook the same meal for grandma. I like her.” Our eyes met and I silently thanked him for forgiving my sin.