On Monday, July 9, it will be the three year "anniversary" of my mom's death. Three years since the scariest morning of my life, three years since my world was turned upside down.
During the last three years, I go visit mom on her birthday, Mother's Day, the anniversary of her death, and Xmas Eve at the very least.
During that time, the boys haven't been to her grave. They both went a few times, but didn't get out of the car. When we had a family memorial when her gravestone was finally put in place, Iain got out, put a rose and got in the car. Jamie flat-out refused to get out of the car. He hated going to the cemetery because it's the "flower place that makes mommy cry," and he wasn't having any of it.
In the last year or so, we've talked with the boys, especially Jamie about grandma's death. We've talked about it at naseum. Jamie needs to suss it out in his head, so he keeps asking, and I answer as honestly as I can that he'd be able to understand.
This year, Jamie wants to go. I'm not sure what he's thinking, how he's processing it, what will happen, but I'm taking the boys with me on Monday. I do take heart that he asked on his own to go, as I usually go and leave hubby to watch the boys.