MONTROSE — As Rick Neuendorf grieved his wife, Cherrie, he took solace in having her urn by his side where he could speak to it — to her — every day. Eventually, he thought, they would be reunited. “Our wishes were,” he said, sitting on a chair outside the camper they called home, “that when we were both gone, we would both be cremated, and our ashes would be mixed together so we’d be together forever.” “But …” Neuendorf paused, his eyes red.