Cremation & the Body

I'm going to get personal. This isn't meant to be a post that is uncomfortable to read, but it may be. You have been warned.

Sitting in the same room as Mom, I'm thinking about what to do with Mom's body after she passes away which, I'm told, is not far into the future.

• Dad believes that the body is a shell for the spirit and that after someone dies, their spirit no longer needs the body. He would be content to place her remains in an urn and to place the urn on the mantle above the fireplace in the family room within the house I was raised. 
• I disagree. 
• I want Mom to be laid to eternal rest which, to me, doesn't mean sitting on the mantle. If Dad happens to be out of town on a birthday or perhaps the anniversary of her death, I won't just go into his house to pray for her. The idea I have in my head is that Mom should be laid to eternal rest, which, to me, doesn't mean a temporary home - it means, to me, a permanent place. 
• It is very important to me that Mom receives after life care that follows the guidelines of the Catholic church. Mom practiced her faith until she could no longer do so - thus, I feel strongly that her faith needs to be respected.
• I want to be respectful that Mom is as much my mother as she is Dad's wife of 50+ years. I also realize that Dad began the grieving process nearly 5 years ago when Mom left their home to live in a nursing home. He has visited her on a regular basis. I know that losing her will be immensely difficult for him.
• I know I am also grieving and have been since she went into the nursing home as well. I have certainly not visited her as much as Dad. 
• I also have not been the best son to her. I made a lot of mistakes, especially in college. 
• Booze was a sensitive subject. 
• When I came back to live in their house in the summer of 1989, after my first year of college, and said on the first Saturday night I was back that I was going to go watch my friend Serbi play drums in a band at a bar, it was the beginning of a new era of our relationship. Mom disapproved of drinking booze. That's an understatement. Her brother was an alcoholic; Dad's dad was an alcoholic; she feared that I would become an alcoholic. It really freaked her out.
• It didn't get much better during the following summer when I came home to live with them and went to Ken Schmitt's wedding reception. After James, KK, JR, and I were done with our shifts at the Spring House restaurant, the four of us journeyed up from Cedar Rapids to Central City. I sat by the keg and drank like a fish. On the way home, I told JR that I thought I was going to get sick so he pulled over. As I walked into the ditch, I stumbled and went down on a knee. I had on khaki pants and so, after doing my business, I returned to JR's vehicle with muddy pants. I don't remember who helped me get to my bedroom in Mom and Dad's house. The next AM, my alarm went off at 6, I got up, showered, went to 7 AM Mass, and then to Spring House for work. Around 11, Mom called down to the Spring House. She was upset with me because she had found my muddy pants. She declared that I was grounded and that I was not to go out anymore.
• Drums and playing in a band was a sensitive subject.
• Stories about Horny Genius and Old Stew have been told elsewhere on this blog.

There are so many thoughts I have about Mom.