You are in a church now. Crying, of course. You just lost another loved one to yet another shooting. You wipe away the tears, trying to hide them from your children. They don't understand death; they just see it as a person with a gun.
You feel something above you, looking down on you. You ignore it. You have never been religious, so you know it is not a deity. You carry on listening to your best friend, trying to talk through her tears.
You feel it again. In your mind's eye, you see the shooting again. You can see a man, holding a gun to your lover's head. Your lover is begging him not to shoot.
"Please," you can hear your lover saying, "I didn't mean to. Just think of my children!"
Your lover is now bleeding on the ground, just outside your house. You come running out, screaming at the blood... You do not see the killer.
You are back in the church. The ceremony is over; you are alone. You can smell your lover's scent, hanging in the air. You close your eyes, knowing that you were responsible for their death.