His shadow loomed tall over the tombstone. I stood too far to make out his features, but the imposing outline of his muscular frame and sturdy shoulders were unmistakable. He hunched over the grave, clutching a handful of dahlias in a vice-like grip, shoulders heaving. As my steps led me out of the cemetery and onto the bustling street, I wondered: who was this man, and why was he crying over my brother's grave?