I entered the warmth of the building
and shed the chills of the winter air.
The sobs filled the room
as I wrote out my name.

I walked through the masses
and saw the tears –
the rivers of memories,
sorrows,
joys,
and loves.

I watched as his aging daughter ran her hand
through the mountains of flowers,
politely skimmed through each melancholy note,
and held off her heart's inevitable storm.

I saw that tears were pooled in the
corners of his grandson's eyes;
his hands were shaking,
but his feet were firmly planted on the ground.
The well-mannered posture was unbroken –
a symbol of his strength during adversity.

They were gathered
there not to remember
the one who was loved,
but to remember the one
feeling that all humans know.

I drew close, payed my respects,
and watched as the resolute began to cry.
No man has ever endured it alone,
so I finally allowed myself
to remember the feeling
on that day when I hugged a stranger.