when my mother died there was a family "tiff" over whether she could use the last space in the family grave. She did.
When my dad died he wanted to be cremated, we left his ashes in the urn and sat them on his armchair looking out of his favourite window until it was time to sell the house. We didn't know what to do with them after that, so we threw him in Loch Earn, across from the caravan Park. He would have liked it there. (Threw him - doesn't sound right).
My brother took the urn home because it "might come in handy". I couldn't think what to say to that. "Better tell M (his wife) just incase she puts the pickled beetroots in it though". I had to laugh, my dad would have have laughed too. My dad was old and ill and tired, he was ready to die. But I miss him loads - as much as I miss my cat!