3: to celebrate or solemnize (as a ceremony or festival) in a customary or accepted way
The old man kissed
her mother’s cheek and murmured something. Then he turned to Sherry, who
stepped back and laced her fingers behind her back to discourage his touch.
“Sherry!” He said
loudly, looking just past her as if making sure the whole family could see him
and his adult granddaughter finally speak again. “Why is it we only see one
another at times like this?”
She nearly snapped,
“Because I hate you,” but one look at her mother’s red-rimmed eyes and Sherry
chose the path of least resistance and said nothing.
“I’m glad you’re
here,” he said absurdly, as though he was somehow the host of this funeral and
had invited her. “It’s important to observe events like Ted’s passing with the
proper respect.”
She stomped on her own
foot to help her hold her tongue and managed a slight nod. Why was it that,
when surrounded by family, she had to fight reverting to her rebellious teenage
self?
Satisfied that
everyone had seen the patriarch enjoy a respectful moment with his troubled and
troublesome granddaughter, the old man finally moved on, and Sherry could
finally exhale.
Her husband appeared
beside her and touched her shoulder. “You handled that like a champ,” he said,
steering her away from the family’s earshot.
“That twisted old
fuck!” she hissed, unable to hold back any longer. “So it’s ‘important to
observe events like Ted’s passing,’ is it? I think it would have been nice for
him to show affection for Ted in life, when it mattered. I know no one likes to
be reminded of their mortality, and it was hard to see Ted at the end. But Ted
was his son! How dare he play powerful head of the family when he didn’t
even have the guts to come to the hospice to say goodbye to his own child? I was
there. Every damn day.”
“That’s why you were
such a spectacular niece,” her husband said, stroking her hair.