My mother and I have been visiting my brother's grave every saturday ever since he was killed in a car accident two years ago. Last saturday they had put a new grave just besides my brother's, it was of a man named Kevin Walter. All his family were grieving everyone looked as if they were in so much pain, and that was normal because our family went through the same thing when my brother left us, and I have seen so many other people going through the same pain during my weekly visits. "They'll get over it soon" I thought to myself as I walked towards my car. My mother on the other hand looked so uncomfortable, she kept looking back at the dead man's wife. "I can feel the fire in her heart" she said "I was burnt by the same flames when your father died.". I don't remember my father's death I was only 3 then, but I know how hard it has been on my mother raising two kids on her own for 22 years then losing one of them, she must have lived with the fear of losing me as well for the past two years. I remember her staying up all night crying while staring at a photo of a young muscular man that was hung on the wall, 6 years later I found out that he was my father.