The stranger set the water jugs down carefully and dropped to his knees. With gentle, practiced movements, he pulled the trowel from his belt and began loosening the soil around the roots of the grass, carefully pulling small weeds from the turf. Then, picking up one jug at a time, he slowly and carefully poured the water around the base of the headstone.
When the last jug was empty, the young man set it aside. He reached out with a trembling hand and pressed his flat palm directly against the carved granite letters of Emma’s name. He bowed his head. In the absolute quiet of the morning, Daniel heard his voice break, a soft, ragged whisper carrying across the silent rows: “…another year… because of you… I promised…”