I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country churchyard than in the tomb of the Capulets.

Offered a choice about where to end up, plainness in a place you loved beats grandeur among strangers. The preference is about belonging: a small churchyard means people who knew you, ground you walked on, a corner someone might visit. A magnificent tomb offers status to people who never met you. Intimacy is being weighed against display, at the point where display stops being useful.

If these things are on your mind, say plainly what you would want and to whom. It is a kindness to the people who would otherwise have to guess. And ask whether you chase the grand version of anything while the small one is available.