Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
I’ve never liked the idea of being buried. My grandparents have been buried for decades and I think I can count on one hand the number of times that I’ve visited their gravesite. I have always thought that graveyards are a huge waste of real estate. That’s just my opinion to which I am entitled. Disagree with me if you like. I certainly understand this is a topic most people don’t even want to think about. Yet we all face it sooner or later.
About a dozen years ago, I had just finished fixing up both of my Studebakers. I ran across an artist that made funeral urns that resemble your custom cars, and I thought it was the coolest idea ever. I had given a lot of thought to what would happen to my remains once I left this world. I didn’t obsess over it, but I had thought about it from time to time. Cremation was always a “given” but what to do with the ashes was certainly open to many possibilities. For a long time, I thought I would like my ashes spread somewhere I found peace, such as the ocean. My father’s ashes are buried under his favorite tree at the cabin where he used to go hunting. He would sit under that tree and just bask in the peace and quiet of the meadow it overlooked. My siblings and I all agreed he would love the idea even though he never really talked about such things. I wish I could remember where he is. I heard about a place that sends your remains up in a firework and it explodes over the water and disburses your ashes for miles. That was my leading desire until I saw the custom urns at that car show. Anyone that knows me knows that I went off the deep end with my Studebaker addiction and it should be no surprise that I latched on to this idea. When I mentioned to my wife what I wanted to do, her response was simply, “will there be room in that for me?” That actually resolved a big problem for me as I was agonizing over whether I should have one made of my truck or my car. Now I could have them both done.
I wrote a story about that and had it published in the February 2013 issue of the Studebaker Drivers Club magazine, Turning Wheels. I enjoy looking at the urns and love to show them to friends and family. I enjoy their reactions, I like being a bit excentric, and my urns certainly reflect that.
My wife’s father passed in 1994, and her mother had been holding on to his urn awaiting the opportunity to join him when it was her time to go. They always told us that being in the same urn was their final wish and they both took it so far as to insist that mama should be on top as that is what her daddy wanted. I know that is a bit TMI, but we can be amused at their candor and willingness to share such an intimate request. It helps us be able to smile at our loss rather than cry. They loved each other very much, and it warms our hearts to think about them together again in the afterlife. It was a beautiful thing to be able to make that happen for them. They were both characters and it’s a wonderful thing to imagine them together, dancing the night away like they did so often in their youth.
We opened up the original urn that Carlene’s dad was in since 1994, and there was not enough room inside to fulfill their request. We bought a beautiful new urn that was big enough for two, and it came with a tray to hold a few cherished artifacts. We watched closely while the funeral director carefully placed their ashes in the proper order. Yes, we miss her tremendously but to be able to think of them together forever is a beautiful thing. That is what I want when I am gone. I want Carlene and me to share our urn together for eternity. I just hope our urn is interesting enough to be cherished by our next generation. I know that eventually there will be no relatives that even remember us and our ashes may disappear. But Carlene and I will be together in a place with no pain or sorrow. That is a beautiful concept to hold on to. We will be with those that went before us awaiting being reunited with those whose time has yet to run out.
