On some shit, funerals aren’t just about saying goodbye.
They’re emotional landmines, especially when your family tree is more fractured than a smartphone screen after a bad drop.
You’re walking into a room full of people who’ve caused pain, who’ve been absent, who’ve said things that cut deeper than any surgeon’s scalpel.
And now, in this moment of collective grief, you’re expected to play nice, to pretend the wounds aren’t still fresh.
Your 5 Piece Survival Toolkit
1. Emotional Armor: Boundaries are Your Superpower
- Decide your engagement level before you walk in
- Set internal limits on conversation depth and duration
- Remember: You control the interaction, it’s your life, not your family’s historical narrative.
2. The Strategic Retreat
- Have an exit strategy for conversations
- Prepare minimal, neutral responses
- Practice the art of the polite but firm redirect
3. Emotional Maintenance: Real-Time Processing
- Bring a trusted support person (your girlfriend)
- Have a private signal for when you need a moment
- Plan post-funeral decompression time
4. Radical Acceptance Protocol
- Acknowledge that people are complex
- Separate the human from their actions
- Recognize that hurt people often hurt people
5. Energy Management
- Set a time limit for your emotional investment
- Prioritize your mental health over family politics
- Know that showing up doesn’t mean opening old wounds. You don’t have to hold anyone’s baggage.
The Deeper Work
This isn’t about forgiveness.
It’s about survival.
It’s about understanding that your emotional well-being trumps familial expectations.
You’re not obligated to reopen closed chapters or pretend the pain didn’t happen.
Your Narrative, Your Rules
Funerals are weird.
They’re a forced reunion where grief and unresolved tensions collide…
But here’s the thing: You get to write this chapter. Not your history, not your family’s expectations, but you.
Isn’t that special?
Show up. Be present. Protect your peace.
And remember: Survival is a victory worth celebrating.
Joe DiAndrea 