My Italian grandmother, who we called Nan, was obsessed with having enough Italian bread for dinner. Every holiday, she brought a crazy amount of bread to my Mom's house. In October of 2000, Nan passed away. On the day of her wake (visitation), my family returned to my mom's house to have dinner between the afternoon and evening visitation sessions at the funeral parlor. We ordered from a local Italian restaurant. When the order arrived, my mom checked it to make sure everything was correct.