I took my brother and nephew to see my great-grandparents' grave recently. Since my brother and my nephew's mum (my sister) were both adopted, this was mainly about them seeing where my dad's grandparents (whom he never met) were buried. So it was more about saying "Here are Pop's grandparents" than "here are my great-grandparents."
My nephew is working with a company which does stonework and other things on grave sites, so he was particularly excited about that whole aspect, and showed us nearby gravestones that he had recently repainted white.
My great-grandparents who came from Scotland died in Brisbane in 1898 and 1908. The grave is right at the bottom of Dutton Park cemetery next to the Brisbane river. For 3 years I caught the ferry there to uni (we call the Ferry "Bryan") and had no idea that my great-grandparents were buried nearby! Clearly my dad didn't know either or he would have told us.
I've visited the town where my great-grandparents lived in Scotland, and it's somewhat surreal to be showing my family where they are buried here in Brisbane. Later we gathered just down the road for my sister's birthday with her family, my brother and nephew. I'm grateful to have the chance to discover this history and sense of 'place' in my home town.