Every morning, as I walk in a local cemetery, a woman drives up on a narrow side road ... and parks near a grave. She stays about 30 minutes ... the time it takes me to make one loop of the cemetery. I wonder if her morning ritual is like sharing coffee and toast with her departed spouse? Or part of that early, deep, profound aching that grabs heart and spirit, sometimes for weeks, months or years, after death of a loved one? 

Reminds me of The Band's 1968 classic, "Long Black Veil," :

Ten years ago on a cool dark night
There was someone killed 'neath the town hall light
There were few at the scene and they all did agree
That the man who ran looked a lot like me

The judge said "Son, what is your alibi?
If you were somewhere else then you won't have to die"
I spoke not a word although it meant my life
I had been in the arms of my best friend's wife

She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave where the night winds wail
Nobody knows, no and nobody sees
Nobody knows but me

The scaffold was h