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When Lambo returned twenty years into the future after his participation in the Ring Battles, he didn't cry.
Lambo had given up his crybaby ways ten years ago, after Byakuran's mad Hell had descended, after he'd helplessly watched everyone he'd ever cared about fall. There was no more Tsuna to pester and have yell at him, no more candy bribery, no more Mama to run to in tears. It was no longer the world of Crybaby Lambo. It became the world of Vengeful Lambo instead, and in his desperate longing for his fallen brothers he vowed to take up their mantles. He became as relentless as the Storm, deadly tranquil as the Rain, strong as the Sun, rogue as the Cloud, even as intangible as the Mist. He was the one-man army, bearing the Vongola spirit and legacy by himself. His name was known far and wide, spoken in low whispers with awe and fear.
(He never became as harmonious as the Sky. It was too hard trying to be six different people already.)
When Lambo returned twenty years into the future after his participation in the Ring Battles, he visited their graves. He remembered them as he'd seen them right before they'd been killed. He remembered them as he'd last seen them, twenty years away but only days ago. He kissed each headstone in turn.
When Lambo left their graves, his footsteps shook the world with their grief.
When Lambo left their graves, he left as the Last Son of Vongola, and he never returned alive.