In Sweden, we don’t have that many funeral options: a traditional grave with a coffin or an urn! …or do we?
For those who wish to be buried in a coffin, the choices are fairly limited. But for those who choose cremation, there are actually several possibilities.
So what’s the difference between a memorial grove and a designated ash burial plot? Can an urn and a coffin share the same grave? What feels right for a loved one who left no specific wishes—or for yourself, if you’d like to plan your own funeral?
Don’t worry. I’ll help you sort through the terminology.
Burial
Coffin Grave (Coffin Interment)
A coffin may only be buried in a designated public or private cemetery.
The grave can hold one or several coffins. You may be buried in the same grave as a deceased life partner, or together with family members in a family plot.
The grave has a marker, usually in the form of a headstone or a metal name plaque.
Burial Chamber
An option that isn’t very common in Sweden. It’s a revived historical burial practice that often functions as a family grave.
A concrete chamber is placed underground. The coffin is set inside and then covered with a concrete or stone lid that can be lifted when additional coffins are to be placed there.
Sometimes a small mausoleum is built above ground, which can be beautifully decorated.
Cremation
Urn Grave (Urn Interment)
An urn may be buried in a dedicated urn grave or in an existing coffin grave.
It is possible for both coffins and urns to share the same grave, for example if partners or family members have chosen different funeral arrangements.
Urn Chamber
Similar to a burial chamber, this type of grave often serves as a family plot.
A concrete box is placed underground where the urns are set, then covered with a concrete or stone lid.
Designated Ash Burial Plot
The urn is buried and marked with a grave marker, often a metal name plaque.
Ash Grove
The ashes are buried without an urn or individual grave marker. The names of those interred are usually displayed on a shared memorial plaque nearby.
Memorial Grove
In a memorial grove, ashes may be scattered or an urn may be buried without an individual grave marker.
Scattering Ashes Outside a Cemetery
To scatter ashes outside a cemetery, permission must be obtained from Länsstyrelsen in the region where the ashes are to be scattered. Each application is considered individually.
The most common requests involve scattering ashes over open water (a sea burial) or in natural landscapes. The location may not be too close to residential areas or hiking trails.
I haven’t decided how I would like to be buried myself. Or rather, I have a wish—but it’s not yet an option in Sweden.
Of the possibilities currently available, I find myself wavering between the “extremes”: a traditional coffin burial in the earth, or having my ashes scattered in nature. The indecision continues. I can only hope the Reaper isn’t in a hurry in my direction.
Have you decided which funeral option feels right for you?
A short story with Quinley & Herrow
Who are Quinley and Herrow?
In Coffinfolk Café’s stand alone short stories, you’ll meet two most unlikely friends:
Quinley – Coffinfolk’s café host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people – whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.
Herrow – Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.
You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting HERE
“A Forever Home”
Narrated by Quinley
One of my friends loves going to apartment and house viewings, even though she has no intention of placing a bid. I was out window-shopping for a different kind of “home” at one of the city’s cemeteries. I had no plans of moving in anytime soon, but there’s no harm in looking, right?
The snow crunched beneath my boots, and the sunlight made the tiny icicles on the tree branches sparkle. The cemetery was almost always empty at this hour, which meant I could talk undisturbed with Herrow as he wandered soundlessly at my side.
“So, what are you thinking?” The Reaper paused by a headstone and straightened a lantern that had tipped over into the snow. “Would you like your body to become nourishment for the earth, or would you prefer cremation?”
I snickered at Herrow’s way of going straight to the point without embellishment—one of the many things I appreciated about him.
“That’s exactly the question. A traditional grave with a coffin and everything comes with so much history and tradition. Giving something back to nature would be an added bonus.” My gaze drifted across the rows of headstones. Choosing the design and inscription would be a challenge in itself. Or perhaps that decision could simply be left to those who outlive me.
We continued along the snow-covered gravel path.
“But there’s something appealing about cremation too, in its own way,” I mused aloud. Herrow was often the perfect sounding board—never judgmental, never overpowering with his own opinions.
“Many cultures see fire as something purifying, almost divine, in a funeral rite. Not to mention how fitting it would be for someone who surely has Vikings somewhere in her ancestry.” He gave me a playful nudge.
“Oh please. You know the whole Viking funeral and burning ship thing is mostly Hollywood invention. But being carried through the air with the smoke and then having my ashes buried… that would be a bit like the best of both worlds. Both resting here and being scattered everywhere at once.”
I stopped at the grassy area reserved for designated ash burial plots.
“A little private nook in the earth,” Death said, nodding toward the small metal grave markers.
That made me smile. Only he could make a burial plot sound cozy.
Something rustled in one of the trees near the memorial grove. A squirrel darted down the trunk and dashed across the snow.
The memorial grove was one of my favorite places in this cemetery. In the center lay a small pond, surrounded by flowerbeds that bloomed in every color of the rainbow during summer.
I brushed the snow off one of the benches and sat down. Herrow leaned his scythe against the backrest and took a seat beside me.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have a grave of my own after all. Imagine being buried or scattered here and simply becoming one with the multitude already resting here. The world’s best shared housing—where we never have to argue about whose turn it is to do the dishes or the vacuuming.” That made Herrow laugh.
“It is often important for you humans to be individuals in life. Don’t you feel the same about your grave?”
“Not really. It feels more like returning to what I was before I was born. Maybe becoming part of the soil,” I scraped my boot lightly through the snow, “or part of the stars.” I squinted up at the sun, still struggling to give any real warmth.
Herrow took my hand in his. Through my knitted mitten, I could feel the outline of his bony fingers.
“If you don’t have a strong wish of your own, perhaps your loved ones might have thoughts about what kind of place they would want to visit. If any at all.”
“They rarely want to talk about death, but I’ll ask.” I nodded, biting my lip. Whenever I brought up the subject, it was always the “wrong” time, according to them.
“Until then, there’s no harm in looking. Perhaps you’ll find your forever home in the earth.” Herrow reassured me, leaning back as if to bask in the pale winter sun.