I stand beneath the shade of a pine tree that's tall enough that you can tell it's been a part of the Evergreen Cemetery in central Boston for quite some time. I observe as Bradley buries his father about fifty yards from where I'm standing. I'm sure I look like some dubious mistress as I stand against this tree trying my best not to get sap on my Balmain dress. I didn't feel comfortable intruding on his family's time. To be honest, part of me is worried that he wouldn't want me here. After all, he still hasn't returned any of my phone calls or text messages. I know that losing someone has a way of taking over your life, but I'm worried it's something worse. What if I've come all this way and he refuses to see me?