How different is one funeral from the other?

The phonerangincessantlytillsomeonetoldthemantotakethecall
He was grieving 
His brother’s death

His nephew
On the other hand 
Was stealthily on the facebook via his new blackberry

Someone was crying
It was the daughter who had just returned from a trek 
And was confronted with a mountain of grief

Her friends discussed the trek amidst comforting her
One remarked that the new climbing instructor looked cute

The widow had the biggest bags under her eyes
And my mother’s eyes
Though the colour was different
(They were grey. A grey which had gone cold)
But the eyes were the same as my mum’s 
When my father had died

How different is one funeral from the next, really?
The neighbours gossip
The close relatives distance themselves
The distant ones make it a point to appear more close than they are
Unsolicited advise, like “take care dear,” or “call us if you need anything,” 
Flies thick in the air
Women make tea
And people gulp it down in sudden jerks
And mumble more meaningless words
And leave hurriedly
Plans are afoot already
To mend lost meetings
Voyages, movies and TV shows

I wonder
Do we cry over the departed one?
Or that this too solid flesh would melt soon in the funeral pyre?