We got rid of our grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ stuff because it was rotting junk, taking up space. After all, our relatives were done with it (being dead and all). How were we to know they'd come back? But when your previously deceased grandma asks for her old hoop skirt, or that daguerreotype of her ex-beau, you feel awful telling her you threw it out. I mean, she just came back from the dead, and the first thing you do is let her down? She’s more disappointed than surprised, though—she figured you’d turn out like this. Guess she'll just go die again.