I’d like to share my point of view, which goes against the grain of this thread I’m afraid. But it touches a nerve.
My eldest boy died some years ago, and we no longer live in the city where he’s buried. All the family have moved away in the years since, so we don’t get there often to visit. But he’s buried with my grandparents (previously unmarked), and that brings me comfort.
A couple of years ago I visited for a week, and on my first visit to the cemetery I discovered someone had taken it upon themselves to ‘adopt’ my child’s grave. They’d taken away the gravel (which came from my grandparents garden) to plant rose bushes, put hot wheels cars and teddies around, and hung little signs on the headstone. Things like ‘precious little one’ - he wasn’t a little one, he was my big boy, a school boy, my pride and joy. He hated being called a little boy. He never liked teddies and he didn’t like cars, he loved trains, he loved Thomas…. I can’t describe how devastated I was. This person didn’t know him at all, knew nothing about him, but they’d taken it upon themselves to decorate his resting place as they saw fit.
This led to a confrontation the next day when she found me removing her rose bushes from the grave and shoving all her assorted crap in the bin. She then had the audacity to argue with me and tell me to my face that she was his sister, and who did I think I was, touching her brother’s grave…. I won’t go into all the details, but I’ve never been so angry in all my life. I’ve never shouted so much at anyone.
When people adopt these graves, I think they should be honest about why they’re doing it. It makes them feel better for ‘caring’ I guess when they feel no one else does, but they could be very wrong. These people have families who love them and cherish their memories still, not the invented ideal of them. They shouldn’t assume that because the grave is in a particular spot that the family didn’t give much thought to the location (my boy is an unusual spot, and that’s because my grandmother chose it, as she could see the hill she grew up on from there). I don’t get to visit as often as I want to, and his grave doesn’t have decorations or flowers because I can’t guarantee they’ll stay nice, and I’d hate them all to be surrounded by fading plastic. But there’s never a single minute of the day I’m not thinking about him. I want other people just to leave him alone with my grandparents, not take it upon themselves to interfere with his grave. His family is looking after him. He doesn’t need strangers to do it.