It occurs to me that only cremation allows for something to be divided, shared, or fought over. A corpse in a coffin does not permit such drama.
When my mother passed, I had her cremated, and kept the urn of ashes in her bedroom, in her home, which she loved, for a year or so, until the estate could be settled and the house sold, and then I brought them to the farmland where she was raised, and had a memorial service and burial with the few relatives who still lived in that area.
I am reminded of the story of the death of Guru Nanak, who founded the Sikh religion around the 16th century in northern India. Certainly many will find this tradition apocryphal, but it is charming nonetheless.
Nanak was admired equally by Hindus and Muslims. When he died, his body was covered with a sheet, and the two groups came and argued for hours who should have the right to bury or cremate the body. Finally, they removed the sheet, and found, not a body, but flowers, so they divided the flowers equally between the two groups, and the Hindus performed their cremation, while the Muslims had a burial service.
