It is just over 12 months since my Dad passed away so my Mum decided it was time to bite the bullet and find a more permanent place for his ashes. After much discussion and deliberation and a few changes of mind she finally decided to put him in a nice little spot under the big old pine tree. It is near the old house where they lived together for over 40 years and not too far from the new house which he dreamed of building for most of those 40 year and saw almost to completion but never got to live in. Anyway last Friday marked 12 months since his funeral so I took my two boys back to the farm where I grew up, for a small gathering to say our final farewells.
A year on and the grieving process has eased the heartache but it still bought a tear to my eye as my little boy placed flowers by the plaque which marks Dads final resting place and said a little goodbye. Three years old is such a sweet age and junior obviously didn't understand all the details of the day. He wasn't quite sure why we would be putting Granddads "lashes" in the ground but he did understand that Grandma was feeling a bit sad so the cure-all "cuddles and kisses" were administered to her, and he blew Granddad kisses as we said goodbye.
This left me with very mixed emotions - grateful that junior didn't really understand what was going on and was therefore spared the pain of it all, but sad that he won't remember his Granddad and that his baby brother never got to meet Granddad at all. I come from quite a small family but I knew all four of my grandparents well and have very found memories of spending time with them while I was growing up. Luckily hubby is the youngest of 8 children so the boys have an abundance of cousins, aunts and uncles to enrich there upbringing as well as their three remaining Grandparents. Times like this make me grateful for my precious little family and reminds me to make the most of my time with them.