I read an essay recently written by a woman who has her mother's ashes in a box on the floor of her closet, and is at a total loss what to do with them. She didn't want to receive "her share" of them from her sisters, she has no intention of displaying them in her home, she doesn't have a special place that her mother would want them spread (nor any direction from her mother to do so), and she is hesitant to put them in her own yard, because she may move some day and would feel awkward leaving them behind. It does inspire some serious thinking, reading things like this. I think everyone on my mother's side of my family, as well as my own nuclear family, agrees that cremation is the way to go. Or if not cremation, then at least no caskets, no headstones. I don't think there is a single one of us who wants to take up real estate in a cemetery for eternity. I've had this conversation with several family members, and I can't recall any of them giving me any hint of what to do with the ashes, however. I know I have come up with several suggestions for what to do with my own mortal remains, and I shared those ideas once or twice. I used to suggest that my body should be scrapped for parts (if there are any organs worth harvesting by the end, that is), and the remainder be turned into mulch. Years ago, I thought it would be great to be buried beneath a rosebush, although not quite in the "Rear Window" way. That was before I developed any gardening skills of my own, and learned how fickle rosebushes can be. I wouldn't want to cause any guilt if "mom's rosebush" ended up dying of black spot within a year or two of both of us being planted.
Ever since I learned of lab-created diamonds being made from ashes, I thought that would be the coolest thing to do. I would naturally prefer to reach immortality by writing something that resounds through the ages, but becoming a diamond would be my second choice for having a lasting piece of myself once I'm gone. However, there are two flaws in that plan (not counting any flaws that would be in the diamond itself). One, it sounds like it would be an expensive way to go, and two, neither of my kids gives two hoots about diamonds. One actively rejects that they have any value outside of industrial use, and the other is rather ambivalent about them overall. Before that, I used to think someone should take my ashes, and mix them into a painting. It sounded like a cool idea to me, but again, the kids seemed to think I was a freak for suggesting it. I'm starting to see more options that hearken back to my "mulch" idea. Some companies will put ashes in a compostable cup along with a tree seed and fertilizer, but growing trees from seed is somewhat difficult. At least I have trouble getting seeds of almost every type to grow beyond a sprout, so I assume the overall success rate is relatively low. It's still a longer-lived plant than a rosebush. I saw another company wants to skip the cremation step, and bury people in a fetal position in an egg-shaped biodegradable container, to use as mulch under a tree. That seems like a less energy-intensive method, but I would suspect it needs to be done on a controlled landscape. Can you imagine being a homeowner who moves into a house with a diseased tree several years later, who has to explain to the guy drilling out the stump that you didn't actually murder anyone and bury the evidence when the bones churn to the surface?
I can see the problem with scattering ashes on one's own property, as mentioned in the essay I read. If I were to do that with one of my ancestors, I would feel really weird selling that house (and you know I would -- I move way too often to pretend otherwise). I'm already struggling with the knowledge that when I let the Park go, I have to let go of the animals buried under flower bushes here. Every few years, my mother threatens to sell the land where our family's cabin sits, and I find the idea of losing the pet cemetery as difficult to stomach as losing the cabin and the land. I think this might be one of the best arguments in favor of finding a "destination" place for ashes. If it's in a national park (legal if you have a permit), then you don't ever have to feel tied to a house you've outgrown. You can feel like you've carried out your loved one's wishes, and you're not saddled with maintenance or guilt. There's never a risk of the grandkids being grossed out by grandma's diamond ring, or that grandma's painting is so tacky that no one wants to put it on their living room wall. And best of all, that way you aren't placed under a high-maintenance manicured lawn, on valuable real estate that could be better served in other uses.
While I'm thinking of where my "destination" might be, perhaps my family would do the same, and consider adding that into their final instructions to those of us who may outlive them. I'll make sure they know what to do with me, as soon as I settle on a plan.
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