AITAH for not forgiving my dying father for giving my younger brother huntingtons disease?

Imagine a family tree twisted by a cruel genetic curse—Huntington’s disease, a relentless thief of life, snaking through generations. Now picture a son, staring at his dying father, not with tears but with a cold, unyielding rage. The father, just 40, is crumbling under the same illness that stole his youngest son years ago. He’s begging for forgiveness, a final goodbye, but his eldest won’t budge. Why? Because Dad knew the odds, rolled the dice anyway, and lost a child to a horrific fate.

This isn’t a Hallmark reunion—it’s a gut-wrenching standoff. The son’s world shattered watching his little brother waste away, a death he blames on his father’s refusal to face the truth. As the clock ticks down, family pleads for reconciliation, but the wound’s too deep. Readers can’t help but feel the weight: is holding this grudge too harsh, or is it justice for a life stolen?

‘AITAH for not forgiving my dying father for giving my younger brother huntingtons disease?’

This story’s a gut punch—Huntington’s isn’t just a disease; it’s a family wrecking ball. The son’s refusal to forgive his dying father isn’t petty—it’s a volcano of grief and betrayal erupting after years of simmering. Dad knew the family curse: his own father, uncle, and grandfather all fell to Huntington’s, dying young in a haze of tremors and despair.

By the ‘90s, when genetic testing emerged, he had a choice—clarity or denial. He picked denial, had three kids, and one paid the ultimate price: a slow, juvenile death. That’s not just fear; it’s a gamble with human lives.

Psychologist Dr. Pauline Boss, in a 2021 NPR interview on ambiguous loss, nailed it: “Unresolved grief can harden into resentment when trust is broken—especially when the loss feels preventable.” This son didn’t just lose his brother; he watched him unravel—muscles jerking, mind slipping—knowing Dad could’ve acted.

Huntington’s is merciless; the Huntington’s Disease Society pegs the inheritance risk at 50% for each child of a carrier. Tests existed. Adoption was an option. Instead, Dad clung to “normalcy,” leaving his kids to carry the fallout. The son’s rage? It’s not irrational—it’s rooted in a betrayal that cuts deeper than biology.

Zoom out, and this is bigger than one family. The National Institute of Neurological Disorders estimates 30,000 Americans live with Huntington’s, many unaware until symptoms hit—often after they’ve had kids. It’s a cycle that could end with testing, yet fear keeps it spinning.

Dad’s refusal mirrors a broader struggle: confronting ugly truths versus hiding in hope. His siblings chose childlessness; he didn’t. Was it selfishness or desperation? Maybe both. But the son’s left holding the emotional shrapnel—anger, guilt, and a front-row seat to a death he blames on that choice.

So, what now? Forcing forgiveness is a fool’s errand—it’s not a debt owed, especially not to a parent who rolled those dice. Therapy’s the lifeline here, not Reddit rants—resources like hda.org.uk offer support for untangling this knot. If he skips that goodbye, he needs to be sure it’s a weight he can carry—regret’s a sneaky ghost.

Experts like Boss suggest journaling or letter-writing (even unsent) to process what’s festering. He’s not wrong to feel this way, but closure’s his to define—not his dad’s, not his family’s. This is about surviving the wreckage, not patching it up.

Here’s what Redditors had to say:

Reddit waded into this swamp with boots on, and it’s a mixed bag of raw feels and sharp jabs. Some call it “above their pay grade,” dodging the drama, while others sling “asshole” labels over shaky timelines. But the heavy hitters? They’re Team NTA, raging at Dad’s “selfish dice roll” and cheering the son’s stand.

It’s a fiery brew—some see a scared man’s denial, others a villain who “bred like bunnies” with a loaded gun. Are these Redditors nailing the truth or just shouting into the void? You be the judge. So, asshole or not? This guy’s staring down a dying dad and choosing silence over absolution.

It’s not warm and fuzzy—it’s a jagged edge of pain and principle. Huntington’s stole his brother, and Dad’s denial lit the fuse. Forgiveness might be noble, but it’s not mandatory. As the end nears, he’s holding his ground—right or wrong, it’s his truth. What’s your verdict? Could you forgive a parent who risked your life—or your sibling’s—like that? Ever faced a family betrayal this raw? Drop your thoughts—let’s wrestle with this one together.