Why Funerals Are the Ultimate “Me” Time for the Living
Let’s be honest for a second. Funerals are weird.
We act like we’re throwing this massive, expensive party for the guest of honor, but let’s look at the facts: the guest of honor is literally dead. They aren’t checking the RSVP list. They aren’t in the back going, “Oh, look, Susan made it after all, even though she claimed she had a Pilates class.”
They don’t care! They’ve achieved the ultimate level of peace, which is having absolutely zero obligations, and here we are paying $\$10,000$ for a mahogany box just so we can sit in a room that smells like old lilies and judgment.
If you really break it down, a modern funeral isn’t a farewell; it’s a high-stakes popularity contest mixed with an amateur acting workshop. Here is why funerals are the ultimate vanity project:
1. The Grief Olympics
The second people walk through those chapel doors, the competition begins. Everyone is trying to prove they loved the deceased the most. You’ve got different tiers of performers:
- The Silent Martyr: Sits in the front row, staring blankly ahead, letting a single, perfect tear roll down their cheek. High production value. Very dramatic.
- The Wailing Extra: Someone who met the deceased once at a barbecue in 2018, yet they are sobbing so hard they need to be held up by two people. Calm down, Brenda. You guys shared a plate of potato salad; you weren’t cellmates in a trench.
- The Eulogy Hijacker: This person gets up to “honor” the dead but spends 15 minutes talking about their own spiritual journey. “When Gary died, it made me realize how precious MY time is, and how I need to focus on MY art…”
2. The Open Casket Face-Off
The open casket is the ultimate vanity trap. We all line up to look at a body that has been aggressively airbrushed by a mortician who learned makeup from a 1980s Glamour Shots catalog.
And what do we say when we get up there? We look at a corpse and say, “Wow, he looks so peaceful.” Of course he looks peaceful! He doesn’t have to pay taxes anymore! He doesn’t have to check his email!
Then you have to do the awkward walk back to your seat while making “somber eye contact” with the family. It’s like the runway walk at Paris Fashion Week, but instead of Chanel, you’re wearing discount black slacks and trying to look deeply philosophical.
3. The “Look At Me Being Helpful” Flex
Nothing brings out the need for validation quite like a tragedy. People don’t just want to support you; they want a receipt for their kindness.
“I brought over three casseroles. Yes, lasagna. I know they’re grieving, but carbs heal. Make sure they know it was from me, the one with the organic spinach layers.”
The Bottom Line
If we’re being completely candid, funerals are 0% for the dead and 100% a giant ego-soothing mixer for the living. It’s a theatrical production we stage because we don’t know what else to do with our hands.
When I go, skip the $10,000 box and the awkward speeches. Just throw my ashes into a leaf blower, point it at someone I didn’t like, and throw a taco party. At least then, the people who show up are there for the right reasons: free guacamole.
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