I had a family member killed unexpectedly in a car crash. It was the familiar story of a young boy in a vauxhall corsa, at night, crashing into a tree.
When I first visited where it happened, there was a group of his friends lighting candles, it was about 8pm at night and very dark, lots of flowers too. And it gave me some kind of hope. That there were people there talking, remembering, crying, it meant that despite how it happened he had made a mark. It made me feel, less alone. It made the world seem a tiny bit less dark.
Years later and I go to his grave probably once or twice a year, it's not and never will be how I choose to remember. But when I go there are flowers, teddies, Easter eggs or chocolate santas, and that's important. It's not where it is, it's that someone who is a complete stranger to me, cared enough about him to remember in a physical way. The rememberance is more important. It means to me, in some small way, his life wasn't insignificant to others. It's not just me who remembers.
I agree with whoever said it's about solidarity. When you lose someone, there's a flurry of people and two weeks, a month, there's suddenly no one. That tiny act of solidarity, says we remember, without asking intrusive potentially upsetting questions that people often don't want answers to.