A grave situation

Those of us who are "older" can't ignore the ritual of decorating the graves for the memorial day procession. In our minds people pass by and if nothing has been done we assume the decedents either: moved away, died, or just don't care. Now the merchants have capitalized on this thinking and you can buy plastic floral wreaths for $20. I have about 30 places I could put one, but I don't. In fact I bought a bunch of plastic carnations, cut off two for each stop and buried my guilt for only $3.
We had Sienna on the day that we went to the graveyards and that turned out to be complicated. I may have lost my touch with bereaved children, although she is not bereaved, but when I showed her a sea shell that "used" to be wear some creature lived, she wanted to know about the whales.
She asked what a graveyard was and I told her it was a garden when we put old bodies of people who had died and that when they got to "heaven" they would get a brand new body.
"But grandma, I've already been to heaven for a new body."
"Oh."
Then,because someone has taught her that her private places are "her body" she wanted to know if she would get the other parts, too?
At the baby's grave, the questions were "why did she die?" Where did she get a germ? I had a germ one time, etc. etc.
Now to complicate the visits...when we left the catholic cemetery to drive to Highland Sienna decided Highland was heaven and the people under the tombstones had new bodies....Then Sydney got in the meddle by telling her to stop making so much noise because the "people were sleeping" and "don't walk there, your walking on someone." When I said, "O, for God's sake don't tell her that. They are just old rotting shells in the holes, " he gave me hell for having no respect for the dead.
Brother! So goes it at the Holoboff home. I continue to be too tired to do much except sit in the recliner most of the day, but I'm forcing myself to eat, no appetite,and do some arm reaches. I am "toying" with the idea of walking to the end of the block.