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We Bought A Funeral Home Family Net Worth

I was doom-scrolling at 2 AM, half-watching a reality show where a family business was imploding over a disputed urn. And I thought, Who actually signs up for this? Turns out, a lot of people. And some of them are very, very good at it. Specifically, the family behind We Bought A Funeral Home—the viral series turned small-screen phenomenon.

You’ve probably seen the clips: a stressed-out dad trying to explain cremation logistics while his daughter negotiates with a flower vendor over silk roses. It’s chaotic, it’s darkly funny, and it makes you wonder: how rich is this family, really? If you’re like me, you skip the drama to Google, “We Bought A Funeral Home family net worth.” Let’s dig into that.

The Short, Awkward Answer

First thing: the family net worth isn’t publicly audited like a Kardashian tax return. But based on industry whispers, show popularity, and real estate holdings, I’ve seen estimates hovering around $800,000 to $1.2 million combined. Before taxes, obviously. And before you ask—yes, that’s mostly in the business itself.

Here’s the irony: funeral homes are not a get-rich-quick scheme. The family bought an existing operation, which meant inheriting an old building, a fleet of hearses, and a chill that only decades of formaldehyde can provide. Their net worth is tied up in embalming tables and chapel chairs. Not exactly liquid.

But Wait—The Show Changed Everything

When the TV deal hit, things shifted. Reality TV pays notoriously low upfront, but it flips the script on exposure and licensing. The family likely earns per-episode fees (maybe $5,000–$15,000 per season), plus backend royalties. That’s pocket change compared to, say, the Vanderpump Rules crew, but it’s a steady drip.

Dresden family stars in new TV series We Bought A Funeral Home | LondonDresden family stars in new TV series We Bought A Funeral Home | London

More importantly, the show turned their local funeral home into a brand. Think merch, speaking gigs, and consulting fees. “Death doesn’t have to be boring”—that’s their tagline, and it sells. One sponsored Instagram post about casket liners? Easily $2,000. Seriously.

The Real Money: Assets and Debts

Let’s break it down like a budget spreadsheet (because I’m that nerd):

  1. Business value: Their funeral home, including property and equipment, is likely worth $500,000–$700,000 in a mid-sized market. But they probably have a mortgage like the rest of us.
  2. Personal assets: A modest house, two used cars, and a lot of funeral supplies. And yes, they probably have a backup generator for the coolers.
  3. Cash flow: From the show? Maybe $200,000 annually after production costs. From actual funerals? Margins are thin—families often pay in installments.

The net worth figure gets inflated because people forget about debt. They probably owe $200,000 on that Victorian parlor. So total equity? Closer to $600,000 max. That’s comfortable, but not “buy-an-island” money.

Meet the Blumbergs! | We Bought a Funeral Home | discovery+ - YouTubeMeet the Blumbergs! | We Bought a Funeral Home | discovery+ - YouTube

The Human Factor (Cringe Warning)

Here’s what I love: they’re not pretending to be loaded. In one episode, the dad jokes, “Our net worth is measured in prayers and leftover funeral sandwiches.” Ouch. But it’s honest. They drive sensible sedans and haggle over flower budgets because death doesn’t care about your Instagram aesthetic.

Side note: they also own a vintage hearse collection worth maybe $40,000. But those are white elephants—costly to maintain, hard to sell. Unless you’re into that aesthetic.

Transforming a Legacy: Our Journey of Revamping a Funeral Home InteriorTransforming a Legacy: Our Journey of Revamping a Funeral Home Interior

So, What’s the Takeaway?

The We Bought A Funeral Home family net worth is a solid, blue-collar six figures. Not millionaire status. Not broke either. They’re the kind of rich that means you can afford a good plumber but still clip coupons for cat food.

And that’s the bit that keeps me watching. They’re not selling a fantasy of endless wealth. They’re selling the reality that you can build a life around death—if you have dark humor, a good accountant, and a willingness to argue about urn colors at 11 PM. Relatable, right?

At the end of the day, net worth is just a number. But knowing they’re sitting on a pile of embalming fluid and hope? That’s weirdly comforting. Now, go call your mom. And maybe buy a willow basket for my ashes. You know, for later.