Oh yeah, like they’ll be able to tell if they are MY ashes.
“Here’s ya husband Bill’s ashes”
“Hank. His name was Hank”
“Yeah, Hank. Whatevah. Just cross out Bill on da box dere”
That's how I knew they were my wife's ashes, because she'd had six screws implanted in her wrist and forearm after she had shattered them in a fall.