The Mournful Man

A friend reminded me about the time he was putting flowers on his Grandmother's grave when he noticed a man, very distraught, in front of a tombstone several yards away. The man 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?" Over and over again.

Cal was overcome with emotion at the sight and went over to the poor man to try and console him.

"Why did you die? Why did you die?" Again and again.

Cal 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."