And the big man shed tears
He was giant of a man — easily six feet five or better, with a muscular sun-tanned 245-pound frame to match. I eyed him curiously, there in the soft green and ivory décor of the plush mortuary, and somehow he seemed strangely out of place. Awkward and obviously ill at ease, he nevertheless had the grace of dynamism of a man accustomed to great out-of-doors as he paced restlessly up and down, up and down, like a caged lion. His wife, a rather small wisp of a woman who plainly adorned him, sat on a green divan and watched him nervously. I found myself mysteriously drawn to these two, as I wondered silently at their reason for being here.