When dad died, he had left it in his will that he should be cremated, and the ashes scattered wherever was most convenient. The backyard was probably what he had in mind. Or possibly the trash can at the crematorium. Whatever we did, a funeral was out of the question. Mom couldn’t bring herself to just dispose of dad, though, so we bought him a casket and rented him a plot at the cemetery at St. Andrews, near the spot where his own dad was buried. It was a beautiful ceremony. Dad would have hated it.