UPDATE: My mom's [61F] grieving for my sister [29F] makes me [25F] concerned for her

Hi everyone, I'm back. I can't say this update is an uplifting one, but I think it's okay for what it is, and what happened. Original is here.
Here's the old summary: My mom won't let us do family traditions after my sister's passing, and I'm worried she may not be doing other things. How can I get her to start feeling better and recovering?
Anyways, on my mom's last day in town, I took her to the cemetery where Diana is buried, since it was just more practical for her to be buried near to us. She didn't want to go through the gate, because she'd never visited the grave. Even when the funeral was held, she didn't want to go because she didn't want it to be real. I waited for her for about thirty minutes, then decided to go on without her so I could at least see Diana's grave. After another thirty minutes, my mom came and joined me. She started sobbing that it wasn't real, that it was all a bad dream.
I just sat there and let her cry. I'd watched Diana die- I knew it was real. So, I just let her try and understand what I knew all along. It made me feel like a robot. I felt even worse when I looked at her headstone, and just felt nothing. Obviously, I miss and love my sister, but I just didn't feel sad. It just felt like looking at a stranger's headstone, and thinking, "Hey, we have the same last name."
My mom eventually wore herself out, and just hugged the headstone and sat there, sniffling. I got up and started to look around, checking out the other gravestones. I have no idea what happened, but I was staring at a headstone, and doing some mental math to find out how old the person was. They were thirty. All of a sudden, I just started bawling. I was thinking about how excited my sister was to turn thirty, and I realized she would never get to turn thirty. I sat in front of a total stranger's headstone, and cried like a baby.
Eventually, I managed to get back to my mom, and we held each other for a while and cried together. She told me she loved me, and I told her I loved her. We just stood there for a long time, then my mom told me she wanted me to have "my moment" with my sister, and went off to a different part of the cemetery. I sat with the headstone for a while, and just started talking about my life. I talked about my job, my lack of success on Tinder, how badly I wanted a cat but my apartment complex didn't let us have animals. I kept waiting for her to tease me, or tell me I was being ridiculous, but she didn't say anything, and I just broke down in tears every time I finished a sentence.
I went to find my mom after sitting there for about forty-five minutes. We went to go get breakfast at a nearby diner. I asked my mom what she was doing since Diana died. She said she'd been going to her counselor, but also found a local group of grieving parents who do a group therapy thing. I asked if she had hobbies outside of Diana. She said that she did what she did before Diana died, and I asked her to do something like scrapbooking, or cooking, or just take a class. I even offered to pay, and that snapped my mom out of it pretty quickly- she swatted at me and told me not to pay for her.
Once she got home, she signed up for a meditation class, and at my request- also started taking an art class at her local rec center. I like to think she's doing a bit better. The other day, she sent me a picture of me and Diana from the day she moved out. It was really sweet, and I asked her to send me a physical copy so I could frame it. I think I'm also doing better. I visited Diana last night, and I felt really good. I brought her some flowers, and I just stayed and chatted for a little bit.
I got myself into a grief handling program, and I'm excited to attend my first group therapy session. This festered in me for a long time, and I let myself believe I was okay because we didn't have a "real bond." But we did, and I loved her, and I've been trying to heal in a way that was just... Going through the motions. I had to let my world stop turning for a while, and experience it like my mother did.
Before that visit to the cemetery, I would cook for myself every night. Since then, I've been going through frozen meals like crazy. I would shower everyday, make sure I curled my hair every morning, wore matching socks even if my boots were too high for anyone to see. Now, I let my hair get kind of gross and let it stay straight for a while. I drag whatever socks I can get out of my dryer. I let myself be sad, and gross, and ugly, and unfortunate. I eat lunch by myself at work somedays, and hide in the bathroom when I feel grief coming on. I've ripped the band-aid off, and am letting all the bacteria and ick get into the cut before I pour hydrogen peroxide in it and let it really be fixed.
It's bedtime for me now, but thank you to everyone who reached out and commented and was kind. And to the people who weren't, thanks for still taking time out of your day.
TLDR: My mom and I had a catharsis moment at my sister's grave, and have been slowly healing and rebuilding ourselves. We're doing okay, and are slowly getting back to being happy and normal.


Source.

Sorry to hear