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Originally Posted by purplegirl  How old is your son? When my neice's dad died, we let her decide if she wanted to go to the funeral. She was nine at the time. She chose to view his body but did not stay for the actual funeral. A family friend sat with her while we were at the funeral.
As far as grieving is concerned, it will come. Remember it is a process and you are likely to feel different things at different times. For me, it hits after the funeral. I'm keeping you in my thoughts!
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My son is 13, but he has Asperger's, which makes him emotionally younger. He wants to go to the funeral, but doesn't want to see the open casket. For me, maybe it'll become more "real" at the funeral. Right now, I'm in NY and my extended family is in MA, so there's no real constant reminder, no empty chair at the table, so to speak. I keep thinking, "how can he be dead?" I KNOW he's dead, but it doesn't FEEL like he's dead, know what I mean? I've never existed before when my Grandfather wasn't alive, never had to think of my Grandmother as a single unit. I spent more time at my Grandparents' house while I was growing up than my own home. My Grandmother has been my "other Mother" and I never had a Father growing up, so my Grandfather, although he didn't exactly fit into the "Father" role, he was the only Father figure I knew for most my childhood. The same is true for my son. Before we moved to NY, my Grandmother was/is his "other Mother". My Grandfather was mostly the only Father figure my son had for the first six years of his life. Even though we now live 2 1/2 hours away, I've managed to visit enough and send my son up enough, so that he could continue this relationship with them as well.
The funeral and wake is on Tuesday, the burial is either Thursday or Friday. I want to find a florist who will get me a Forget-Me-Not flower, to stick in his casket when he says goodbye. Not sure why, except that was his Mother's favorite flower and I feel the need. I'm not sure I understand why, but I feel he would have known why. (Yeah, weird.)
My Grandfather's name was Whitney. My Grandmother's name is Mary.
It hasn't hit me yet- it probably won't hit me until a month or so after the fact- but it's gonna be bad. And I'll need to be strong for my kids and for my Grandmother.
