The Mosiman marriage needs mediation: Weigh in now!

All right...help me out here. The marital battle has been raging for days and we need mediation. So, in the style of the Ladies' Home Journal's series Can this marriage be saved, allow me to present both sides in an equitably unbiased manner so that you can clearly see that I am a loving, selfless spouse whose only thought is of being partnered with her beloved in this world and beyond.

MY SIDE (also known as the right side): Although I detest gardening, I am aware that, eventually, I will be forced, against my will, to push up daisies. Before I go on, please allow me to apologize for the ridiculous number of commas in that sentence. So even though this event is at least fifty years in the future, I want to be prepared. I have a playlist ready, recipes organized, and instructions for my final remains. Cremated, my ashes will be mixed with Brad's (who, grief-stricken, will follow me in death within an hour's span) and my daughters will climb to the highest law-abiding point of Letchworth State Park to sprinkle us over the high falls where we will be caught up in the gentle rapids of the Genesee to cascade majestically over all three waterfalls. Beautiful, right?

Brad's brief rebuttal to Amy: "First of all, you know that I'm not overly fond of heights." (He volunteered for the Airborne Unit during his army enlistment). "Second, I have always discouraged your frolicking about on the highest law-abiding point of Letchworth State Park. It's not safe and I would prefer to not have to pay fines or bail any of my immediate family members out of jail."

BRAD'S SIDE: I don't want anything fancy. The girls can just have my remains put in a Folgers can and I want them to bury me somewhere that has special meaning for them.

Amy's astonished insight: I KNOW, RIGHT!?!? Did you catch that? Mr. Coffee plans to percolate for eternity WITHOUT his missus. Hurt and upset, I just want to kick him right in the can!

Brad, butting in: You're missing the whole point! You have been telling me, for the past ten years, what is going to happen to my remains without once asking my opinion or considering what I might want.

So, what's worse?  Dragging Brad, against his will, over the rail and into the raging water or being denied the right to be ground into the ground with a bunch of coffee grounds?