Mom called yesterday to tell me that they will be burying G'ma and G'pa "sometime" this week.  The cemetery gives the family use of the gazebo for an allotted amount of time to say a prayer, say goodbye, or whatever, and then the family turns over the remains to someone who works there.  Later, the remains are buried by staff and the family is sent a map and packet to tell them how to find their loved ones later.

So if I'm not mistaken, it will not be a family event.  (Short notice notwithstanding.)  Perhaps Chrissy, Dad, Audree, and Charlie will be there for the turning over (oh!  how awful that sounds!), but everyone else plans to wait until they can visit the grave site and see the headstone.  Final closure--not just one more step in this long, drawn out, emotionally draining process.

UPDATE:

Aunt Audree called me Friday to say that she, Charlie, Dad, and Chrissy went to the cemetery to deliver G'ma and G'pa's ashes for burial.  She said they were very surprised when they were taken to the site and actually watched the burial.  She said the grass was then placed over their grave site and "You'd never know it had ever been disturbed."  She said she felt... she wasn't sure of the word she wanted, but she was glad they were finally buried and was grateful to have been able to witness it.  I asked her if the word she was searching for was "closure."

I've always been bothered by the fact that they were cremated.  I've been very bothered by the fact that they were sitting in boxes on the porch.  I thought I'd feel better when they were buried.  I thought I'd feel closure.  But I don't.

It just makes it all real again.  They are gone.  Really, truly, gone.  I won't see them again in this life and it hurts.