Featured on @StorylineReddit: November 28, 2025
There’s a moment in this story that almost passes quietly: a father placing an urn in the center of his living room and saying his wife is finally home. He smiles when he says it. Other people in the room notice.
The real fracture doesn’t begin there, but that’s where it becomes visible. What started as an accident a box in a studio, misplaced or thrown out grows heavier once grief wraps around it. A promise to create something beautiful turns into a question about what can be carried and what can’t.
This isn’t really a story about cruelty. It’s about pressure. About how quickly good intentions compress into fewer choices. And about what happens when someone who believes she is fundamentally honest finds herself rehearsing a version of the truth that feels almost right.
Some silences stretch longer than expected.
After her mother’s sudden death, the narrator’s boyfriend offers to craft a custom urn a gesture meant to honor memory through something tangible. In order to do that, he takes custody of the ashes and then loses them. At first, the loss is treated as temporary, something recoverable. He insists they are misplaced. Time passes.
When it becomes clear they are not returning, the narrator is forced into a narrowing set of options. Tell her grieving father that the last physical trace of his wife is gone, or shield him from another shock. She ends the relationship. She does not end the concealment. Instead, she substitutes ashes and presents the urn as complete.
For a while, the decision appears to relieve something in the room. Her father’s visible comfort becomes part of the justification. The lie settles into family ritual. It becomes something that must be maintained.
At a large dinner, when she is asked to retell the story of the urn, she physically cannot. The truth surfaces in a moment she cannot control. The fallout is immediate and deeply relational.
The first loss was accidental. What followed required participation.
Text Version
My [27 F] boyfriend [31 M] for 5 years accidentally threw away my mother’s ashes
CONCLUDED
I am not The OOP, OOP is u/thrownawayashes
My [27 F] boyfriend [31 M] for 5 years accidentally threw away my mother’s ashes.
TRIGGER WARNING: deception, loss of a loved one
MOOD SPOILER: depressing and awful
Original Post Feb 20, 2018
Copy of the post
My mother died just before Christmas. She was hit by a car so obviously it was totally unexpected and we’re all still in a daze, at least I am. My father even more so, it’s like he shut off when he heard the news and hasn’t figured out how to power back up again yet.
Shortly after the funeral, my boyfriend offered something amazing. My mother was always a huge fan of the arts, and as my boyfriend is a potter, she’s always been incredibly intrigued by his work. He even treated her to a studio session once and she went on about it for weeks.
Anyways, his offer was to create an urn for my father, something really striking and original and my mom. I thought it was incredible and when we asked my dad he just burst into tears and started hugging us, he seemed so truly touched, it was an incredibly intense moment for us all.
I know that art takes time, but usually, my boyfriend is a very quick worker. We didn’t get her ashes back until about 6 weeks ago, and my boyfriend asked if he could hold onto them so he could make the urn the proper size and everything.
A few weeks go by and I asked if he had any updates or if I perhaps could see his progress. He got pretty defensive and I dropped the subject. Sometimes he can be testy about his work, so this wasn’t really out of the ordinary if that makes sense.
Over the following few weeks I’d drop hints here and there and mention it in passing, but he’d always manage to drop the subject and I’d get no new info. Finally, a few days ago, I got pretty serious about it, since my dad had recently asked about it, and demanded to know at least an estimate of when it’d be completed.
The look on his face said it all. My heart dropped to my stomach before he even spoke a word.
I love my boyfriend but damn is he mindless sometimes. He says he misplaced the ashes but that they had to be somewhere in his studio, so they weren’t lost. He was adamant that they were in the studio somewhere, as he’s the only one really that goes in and out and he would remember actually taking them out of the studio.
For the past 2 days we have torn the room apart. We’ve completely emptied it and put everything back in, we’ve emptied boxes, storage containers, wastebins, every-freaking-thing. It’s not in there. The ashes were in a pretty inconspicuous brown box, which I believe would have been easy for him to confuse as something else and either take out of the studio at some point or throw away.
He still insists that the ashes aren’t lost and that they’re somewhere in his studio. It’s making my head hurt. Like, yesterday morning we had his studio absolutely empty, it’s just not in there. I don’t know what happened to them, and at this point it doesn’t really matter, but I can accept that they’re gone. At which point, it’s time to tell my father.
But my bf refuses, insisting that they are not lost they’re just misplaced, and telling him that they’re gone for good would be unneccessarily cruel. I kind of agree and here we are. If my dad asks again, I don’t think I can lie to him, but what if bf is right? What if I tell him that we lost the only remnants of his wife, only to be wrong? Why should I put him through that if we’re not sure?
But on the other hand, it’s already been longer than I implied it’d be, so he’s got to be growing concerned. Would he hate that I lied to him when he eventually does find out?
My head is a mess, please help me. What do I do?
tl;dr: Boyfriend was going to make an urn for my mother’s ashes but misplaced them. What do we do now?
RELEVANT COMMENTS
Dishy22
I may be a terrible person.
I don’t think I’d tell your dad. It’s not going to help him.
I’d either tell the white lie that she was incorporated into the slip to make the urn or find some ash elsewhere and put it in a bag and let it be.
Again, I may be a terrible person; but, sparing a loved one unnecessary pain would be my intention.
Gosh, I’m so sorry.
OOP
Ok I’m going to sound 12 years old here, but I don’t know if I can lie to my dad. Especially about this. We’ve always been extremely close and we just don’t lie to one another.
But I think you’re right. This is the best option and it’s best for him. I think.
Drewable
To my knowledge, my father and I don’t lie to one another either. But if he suddenly lost his life partner? I’d tell him her ashes were in that urn and nothing else. It’s not like he’ll be looking to use them for anything, but rather wants to know that she’s in there, and honestly as long as he thinks she is, then she is. It’s your decision, but this is one lie I think I would tell my father.
OOP
What if that’s not true? What if just because he thinks it, her spirit is not in there? What if I’ve truly lost her?
drewable
Well, you have lost her in the way of the physical. She’s dead. You’re grieving and I’m sorry to come off harshly, I just view death very factually. How she lives on now really all depends on you, and your father, and the people who knew her. I choose to remember my grandparents by talking out loud to them sometimes, or taking note of moments when I feel like I can feel their presence. I choose to believe those things and feel certain ways about them. I choose to carry the people I’ve lost in my own ways, just as you and your father and whoever else loved her are going to have to. Her ashes were just the last physical representation you had of her, I can imagine it’s hard to lose them for you but really this all depends on how you view death. Do you believe in souls? Do you think that her soul only exists attached to those ashes? This is all about perspective. Your mother is your mother. Your fathers wife is your fathers wife, that doesn’t change because you can’t find her ashes. That stays the same because that’s how the two of you individually feel about it. I hope this makes some sense, death is such a sensitive topic. Either way I am sorry for your loss. I think no matter what, she lives on in both of you and that’s more important than the burned up remains being what’s actually in that urn.
~
[deleted]
I’m going to be totally honest…if I was him I would have gotten some ash from somewhere else and lied to you and your father. I would have taken the secret to the grave.
When told it’s a little white lie
I feel like white lies are lies about small or insignificant things that have no real impact. This doesn’t feel like one of those things.
[deleted]
There is no impact. She’s not gonna come back to life with the real ashes. He’s never gonna look at the ashes. How does knowing help? It’s just a memorial.
But I dont insist on this position – it’s very delicate and very personal
~
OOP
I’m really struggling with it. I feel like I’ve lost her all over again, which is silly and stupid but it’s the truth. I still feel so numb, I’m sure I’ll feel more eventually.
kosmickoyote
And your father will feel that way too that’s why people are telling you to not tell him. Also, he will never forgive your boyfriend.
OOP
People are also faulting my boyfriend for hiding it from me…but then suggesting I hide it from my father…how can one of those be wrong and the other be right?
euemkai
I think the difference between these two lies is that, one was selfish, protecting himself (your SO) and the other is you protecting your dad as to not cause him anymore grief. The fact that your SO hid that he lost the ashes, for weeks, says a lot about him.
This is an incredibly hard decision either way, and I’m sorry you’re going through this
OOP
He says he lied to protect me, plenty of people could also say I’m lying to protect myself from the guilt of admitting that I lost her. I guess I just don’t see the difference.
Does her BF lose a lot of things
Yeah, honestly, he’s lost his passport, his car keys, his house keys (countless times) the significance of the item doesn’t affect his mindlessness.
Update Apr 30, 2018 (38 days later)
I’m just going to post this here and leave, so apologies if I don’t have the strength to answer comments. I’m at a real low right now, please go easy on me guys.
I took your advice and then ruined everything. I don’t know where to begin except that I’ve destroyed my father and fucked up absolutely everything. I’m all alone.
I waited a few more weeks for her ashes to possibly show up, but they didn’t. I finally accepted that my mom was really lost forever.
First, I dumped my bf. Once my head cleared I realized that I just couldn’t get past this, I felt like he’d betrayed me and betrayed her memory.
Then, I took your other advice and lied to my father. It started out okay. I gave him the urn and he was so overcome with happiness, honestly it was the first time he’d truly smiled since her passing. He announced that his wife was home and set the urn as a centerpiece in his main room. I was overwhelmed but ultimately knew I’d done the right thing, if you could have seen him you’d agree. So thank you, Reddit.
I take full blame for what happened next.
Everything was fine for awhile. I could manage telling the story without breaking down and I held up the lie as best I could. Until last night.
My father hosted a large family dinner at his home, both my siblings were there and aunts and cousins and such, about 20 people in total.
Before we said grace, my brother stood up. He lifted up this beautifully etched wood placard and explained that he’d had a quote from our mother’s favorite book burned or something into the wood. He read it aloud and guys it just hit me like a ton of bricks. I don’t want to say the specific quote or book, but it just hit me in all the wrong places. But I was okay, I held the tears back and kept swallowing the giant ball of sadness that was building up in my stomach, and tried to look unfazed.
After he finished, he placed it against the urn and hugged my father, who then turned to me and asked if I would tell everyone one more time the story of the urn.
I tried. I tried so fucking hard but nothing would come out. I just sat there with my mouth open and tears streaming down my face and a fucking concrete slab resting in my stomach and froze.
Everyone was staring at me and the lie just wouldn’t come out. It’s like it was stuck in my throat and I started physically shaking and just stood up and went to the bathroom. It was apparently quite the scene.
My sister came after me and found me sobbing in the bathroom. She sat down with me and started crying, too, begging me to talk to her, but I was still just frozen.
She held my hands and said that we need to lean on one another in times like this, that we have to be able to be honest about how we’re feeling.
Everything just broke. I fucked up and I told her the truth. As soon as it was out of my mouth she dropped my hands like hot coals. She looked so disgusted with me. She asked what I’d filled the urn with and I told her ashes from my fireplace. I don’t know why I said that, it was like every lie just wouldn’t make its way out of my mouth and I could only say the truth. I hate myself for that.
She stood up to leave and we both realized my father was standing in the doorway. The way he was looking at me
I’m sorry I can’t finish that sentence, I keep trying to. I’ll never get his face out of my head. I betrayed him. I broke his heart.
I stood up but again my voice failed me. He looked down and told me I needed to leave. I tried to hug him and my sister tore me away and shouted “Don’t you touch him” and my father told me again that he wanted me out of his house.
I could barely walk or think but somehow I made it out of the house. On my way out, my father handed me back the urn. I don’t remember what he said.
I’ve called and texted him and my sister both since then, apologizing a million times in every way I know how.
My father told me I’m as dead to him as my mother.
I’m all alone. I don’t have my bf. I don’t have my family. I don’t have my mom. I ruined absolutely everything and don’t know where to go from here. I haven’t left my bed all day and I feel like I’m mourning my mother x100 all over again.
I don’t know why I posted this, I just don’t have anyone else to turn to. I hate myself and I know that I deserve this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I’ve failed my mother, I’ve failed my family. I’m so alone.
tldr: I took your advice and it worked perfectly, and then I destroyed absolutely everything.
Source
The dinner scene is simple at first. A wooden placard etched with a quote from her mother’s favorite book. Her brother reading it aloud. The urn set carefully as a centerpiece. Before grace, her father turns to her and asks for the story again.
She opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. Tears stream down her face. She stands up and walks to the bathroom.
No speech. No dramatic reveal. Just silence and movement.
Earlier, the situation looked like logistics something misplaced, then gone. But underneath that was something more fragile: the way she understands herself in relation to her father. They don’t lie to each other. That belief isn’t decorative; it’s structural. When her boyfriend concealed the loss, whether to protect himself or her, it introduced a split. When she chose to conceal it from her father, she stepped into the same split and had to live inside it.
The boyfriend’s carelessness isn’t theatrical. He loses passports, keys, things that matter. Significance doesn’t appear to anchor him. His insistence that the ashes were still in the studio feels less like strategy and more like refusal to close a door. “Misplaced” keeps hope open. “Gone” ends the conversation.
Then the pivot: the urn works. Her father smiles for the first time in months. He says his wife is home. The object stabilizes the room. For a while, everyone stands inside that version.
At the dinner, the version collapses.
Her sister holds her hands in the bathroom and asks her to be honest. Her father stands in the doorway. After the truth comes out, he hands the urn back to her. He tells her to leave.
It’s a small gesture passing an object from one set of hands to another. No raised voice in that moment. Just transfer.
The story doesn’t close cleanly. What broke was not only the illusion but something more difficult to name. And the returned urn sits there, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with ash.