Cemeteries

My mom's grandparents.

The kids and I visited a few family graves this afternoon with my parents, grandparents, and a few other relatives. We live near City Cemetery in Salt Lake and drive past it often on the way to or from home. As we drive past, James and Kate frequently ask questions about death, burial, the resurrection, etc., but we've never stopped to get out of the car. At the invitation of my parents, today seemed like the right day to do so.

We started in the Hoytsville and Coalville cemeteries in Summit County, then went to Wasatch Gardens and City Cemetery in Salt Lake. The kids asked a few questions throughout the afternoon, but not as many as I'd anticipated. I wonder if more questions will come as they spend some time processing the afternoon. At City Cemetery, the last one we went to, Kate asked where I was going to be buried. I said I didn't know. James suggested I be buried at City Cemetery with an explanation along the lines of not having to drive very far to visit me.

I don't really like to think about morality or death much (I assume that's normal), but I think it's good that there are a times in life - including a designated national holiday - that make us think about those who came before us and how precious life is. I hope Kate and James are old enough to process their experience today in a productive way.

Grandma & Grandpa Wilson, my mom's parents, and
Robert Daniel Wilson, my mom's younger brother
who died in a fire as an infant.

My Grandma Judd's parent's grave
and Grandpa Judd tending to the flowers.

At 22-months, Robert is too young to understand
where we were or what we were doing.
He liked the leaky faucet at Wasatch Gardens, though.
(Thankfully, Salt Lake City only has culinary water.)