Such things are small potatoes next to the souls of your family, but I don't suppose father really believes in the Living Christ who will judge the living and the dead, either. For him, religion is probably nothing more than smells and bells, baptistries and sepulchres and pretty music. He seems to be merely a consumer of religion-it is beyond the pale for it to make any demands of him.
Isn’t the boy old enough to choose where he wants to be buried when he is ready to push up daisies? This sounds bizarre of the parents too. It isn’t all the boy’s weirdness.