Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Emily were seated at the small table just to side of where Father's body was. I'd already taken a look at him. I'd even managed a small poke, just to make sure the doctors and undertakers weren't mistaken; he hadn't moved.
All throughout the house were small clumps of relatives and friends. Normally, such an occasion would have had Bertram running through the halls, but Mother had explained that it just wasn't done during funerals.
Seemed like a lot of rot to me. Father always loved to chase Samantha and me up and down the halls and stairways. He always found the best hiding spots to jump out and scare us, too, as we ran through the house.
He wouldn't have liked all this somberness.