Nico's Point of View
It doesn't matter if you have a family of five or a family of nine or a family of two. When your family dies, you die with them. And sure, you walk around afterwards on your own two feet, and you talk to people with your own voice, and you stop crying tears and start smiling your old smile again; except they're not your feet, they just carry around the corpse that can't walk on its own anymore, and it's not your voice, it's just the church bells that chime after the funeral to cover up the sound of dirt being shoveled, and you never stopped crying, you just ran out of tears and were left gasping and heaving at the loss of their feeling, and you never started smiling again, all that's left of your smile is the false grinning of skeleton without a face.
All that's left is a hand that can hold but can't be held. All that's left is a heart that has a pulse but can't beat. All that's left is silence, but its so loud that it might as well be screaming. All that's left is an empty chair where a person used to be.
But no one sees the empty chair. They just see the feet and the voice and dry eyes and the smile. They see the body bag that holds the skeleton whose skin rotted away long ago. If they were to open the bag, they would see nothing but an empty chest cavity, an empty skull, empty hands. All they would see is empty bones.
But they can't open the bag. It's sealed shut.
All they see is what they want to see.
Besides, how could they distinguish a skeleton from a person when their eyes are too cloudy with tears anyway? They can't see through their own Mist.