To be honest, this resonates with my season as a young widower years back.
Nothing prepares you for that feeling of heaviness, weighing you down as you move from mourning the loss of someone you love, to raging over the fact they had to suffer, to pitying the patheticness of your own tragedy and how badly you're coping with it, to connecting with the pain of universal suffering, to questioning God... and then finally the waters settle into acceptance, tranquility, and a sense of new hope and optimism.
I guess that would be reflected by flowers starting to grow out from between the stones.
