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13 Reasons Why Your Dead Dad Doesn't Deserve Your Tears: A Funeral Ditcher's Guide


Ever notice how we're expected to weep over corpses just because they managed to contribute DNA to our existence? Like some cosmic participation trophy awarded posthumously for the bare minimum achievement of ejaculation? Today we're dissecting the moral quandary of a 13-year-old girl who committed the apparent cardinal sin of refusing to sit through the masturbatory eulogy fest for her emotionally neglectful father – a man who treated his family like a corporation where affection was perpetually in budget deficit.


I'm 13 (Female) and my dad just died from a heart attack.

Growing up, my dad was horrible. Like, horrible horrible. He was the #1 reason why I had severe mental issues, why I was afraid to come out, and a whole lot of other reasons.

Don't get me wrong, he was a great father, but never a good dad. He saved money for our college, he cared for us financially, but it was a bad trade-off for completely neglecting me emotionally.

He also controlled my mom financially. That sucks.

Anyways, I had to go to the funeral at first (because I'm a teenager that's living under my mom's roof) but I decided to ditch when I saw my mom talking about how great he was. I just lost it, you know?

He was never good to my mom. Or me. Or my sisters. Always yelling, always fighting, and sometimes he used to make my mom uncomfortable.

I just up and went, during the stupid speech, because I genuinely couldn't take it anymore. Now, my sisters are mad at me, and so is my mom, and nobody will talk to me. I can get where they're coming from, but I'm not going to say it's completely my fault unless it truly is and I'm just being a selfish teenager in an angst phase.

So, AITA?

Source


The Existential Shitshow

Let's slice open this festering carcass of family dysfunction, shall we? This girl's father – this "great father but never good dad" – sounds like capitalism personified in a polo shirt. Saving for college while bankrupting his child's emotional development. What a fucking bargain. The cosmic joke here is that society expects this kid to sit through speeches about what a "great man" her father was, as if death magically transforms emotional terrorists into saints worthy of Vatican consideration.

The funeral – that grotesque theater of collective delusion where we pretend the dead can hear our platitudes – becomes the perfect stage for this absurdist play. Mom stands at the pulpit, likely Stockholm-syndromed into reminiscing about her financial prison warden, while her daughter commits the only authentic act in the room by walking out. It's like watching someone refuse to applaud after a particularly shitty episode of a long-running series that should've been canceled seasons ago.

The family's reaction is as predictable as a network sitcom finale. They're shocked – SHOCKED – that someone might disrupt the carefully choreographed performance of grief with something as inconvenient as truth. Their silent treatment is just another control mechanism, a pathetic attempt to enforce conformity even as the family patriarch rots in designer-brand formaldehyde.

This girl's sisters and mother – now furious at her disruption – are just extras in their own tragedy, desperately clinging to the comforting lie that their collective suffering had meaning. It's easier to be mad at the kid who walked out than to admit you wasted decades on an emotional desert of a relationship. They're like audience members angrily shushing someone who yells "the emperor has no clothes" during a particularly pretentious Broadway show.

The Punchline Is Us

In the end, what makes this story so fucking hilarious in the darkest possible way is that this 13-year-old has more courage than most adults three times her age. While everyone else performs the socially mandated grief rituals like well-trained circus animals, she alone refuses to participate in the mass hallucination. Her family isn't mad because she dishonored her father – they're mad because she exposed the lie they need to survive.

The real asshole in this story isn't the teenager or even the dead dad – it's the collective delusion that we must speak well of the dead regardless of how they lived. It's the insistence that biological connections trump actual human decency. It's the societal expectation that children should set themselves on fire to keep their parents warm, even when those parents never bothered to teach them how to extinguish the flames.

For Those Too Dense To Understand The Fucking Point

Girl's dad was an emotional Scrooge who hoarded money but never gave a shit. 👨‍👧 He died. ⚰️ Everyone pretended he was wonderful. 🤥 Girl walked out of funeral because bullshit is still bullshit even when packaged with flowers and tears. 🚶‍♀️ Family mad because truth hurts more than death. 😡 Moral: Just because someone paid your bills doesn't mean they deserve your grief. 💸 Sometimes the most honest thing at a funeral is an empty chair. 🪑

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