Comforting or Creepy?

This is my brother's gravestone.  My parent's bought it after the terrible trial of losing an infant.  The money hadn't been easy to spare, but it made it easier to leave him in Michigan when a job came up in West Virginia.  I was careful to pay attention to the details so that I could find him if I ever came back.  The other day I was googling the names of people I know, and there it was, little lost lamb and all.  I felt two things immediately, relief--"there you are" and anger--"how dare they!"
The relief stemmed from the moment of connection with this little person gone, a sense that, in a world of shifting electrons something had stayed put.  I can visit and scrub the headstone and plant things that never survive.  I will admit that since I found this picture I have returned periodically to view it and remember.
The anger comes in that, anyone with Google can go there too.  This is our private grief and no one else's business.  Shouldn't there be some protection for this sacred place?  How dare some camera enthusiast  fill an empty Saturday snapping up pictures of loss and grief?  I cannot move into the graveyard with my brother's body, his body cannot stay with me.  Please do not abuse the middle ground between us.
Then I remembered visiting Starnberg, Germany and my fascination with the graveyards.  The beauty of the expressions of love inspired and comforted me.  The comparative sterility of American graves seemed rather sad.  I took tons of pictures and they are still my favorite tokens of Starnberg.  I suppose the balance is this-- he is my brother, my only brother and he's gone, that's personal--my grief is universal and I share it with everyone.  If the photo was taken in such a spirit, it took nothing it didn't own.