Dried, rotten brown leaves crunched under Jordan Fox’s boots as he pushed his baby stroller into the Manhattan cemetery’s ornate gateway. Dry flowers and half-burnt candles were strewn across the lawn. A gust of wind howled through the row of Eastern red cedar, breaking the grave silence as he proceeded to his late wife Kyra’s tomb. It was her first death anniversary.

“We’re going to see mama…” he told baby Alan, one of his triplets resting his bulky diapered bottom on his left hip. The other two, Eric and Stan, lay in the stroller, watching the sky and babbling at seeing dragonflies.

Upon reaching, Jordan’s heart raced at seeing a silhouette of a stranger, seemingly in his late 50s, standing near Kyra’s grave. The man adjusted his Irish cap as he leaned to brush the tombstone with the epitaph that read: A twinkle in our eyes & hearts is now on the skies. — In Loving Memory of Kyra Fox.