The man was in front of a gravestone several yards away, and he was on his knees, hands tightly clasped in front of him, rocking back and forth, head tilted upward to heaven, tears streaming down his cheeks, moaning softly, “Why did you die? Why did you die?”
The man did this over and over again, and after a while Brian was overcome with both emotion and curiosity at what he was seeing, and went over to the poor man to try and console him.
“Why did you die? Why did you die?” bellowed the man again and again.
Brian gently put his arm around the man and half whispered to him, “My Grandmother is buried just over there. Is a loved one of yours buried here?”
“No,” sniffled the man, “It’s my wife’s first husband.”