Yesterday morning, my mother and I went to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, in Rochester, New York, where my father is buried to plant some flowers and, as it turned out, a flag. The last two times we had visited since his death earlier this year, we had agreed that ot woudl be a grand idea to freshen up the site a little bit. After noticing that the forecast for Father's Day included an 80% chance of rain, going the day before seemed like a better idea. There are always many visitors there working on their loved ones' graves, and today would be our turn.
I, perhaps like you, used to think it was somewhat morbid to decorate grave sites. Of course, that was before it impacted me on a personal level. Now the practice seems to make more sense, which is usually how things go. As odd as it sounds, it was a cathartic experience stopping by the cemetery to planting some flowers, especially on a beautiful day in such close proximity to Father's Day. If this sound weird to you, I understand. I was in your position not too long ago.