Your friend has seen your brother transform right before her eyes. He has become a man today. He holds in his tears, hoping his façade of bravery will help your family keep it together. She sees your sister crying and takes her hand, hoping that it will coax out some of that vibrant, bubbly person she was before. She looks at your parents, crying over the traditional funeral readings: Ecclesiastes, Psalms, etc. Your friend is angry at this priest. How can he speak of who you were? He had no idea who you were. This is just another job for him. And this angers your friend. You weren't just someone to her. You were a piece of her heart that you shattered. Just like the hearts of the rest of your family and friends. Everyone looking at that headstone where you rest. Pieces of their hearts lying with you.