I'm sorry, but this thread kind of makes me chuckle. My Dad and Mom were adament that they never wanted to be buried "six feet under", so made us promise we would have them cremated and then spread their ashes somewhere.

So Dad died, we did as he asked, but Mom couldn't bear to part with his ashes. So where did he end up? On her shelf of knick-knacks which had always been one of the banes of his life throughout their marriage. We just thought it was too funny.

Then when Mom died, my brother bought a special cabinet to store both sets of ashes until we could decide what to do with them. So there they sit, side by side, on this shelf with all of Mom's favourite knick-knacks (and some of Dad's favourite things too - his pipe and football bobble head, among other things). Someday we'll all go to Newfoundland and build a cairn overlooking Brigus Harbour (where Mom grew up) and set their urns inside the cairn (with a little window looking out over the water, of course - Mom would hate to not have a window!)

I'm so glad we can laugh about it now. Never thought I'd be able to laugh about it, but shows how far I've come healing-wise (thanks to everyone here!)