Everyone At My Girlfriend’s Funeral Accused Me Of Stalking Her,

Hostility at the Service

I’d been secretly dating Amelia for a year when I found out she called herself. Her funeral was a week later. I showed up in a simple black outfit, not wanting anyone to recognize me.

I immediately noticed that I was the only black person there. Seeing her best friends reminded me why we kept our relationship so private.

The whispers started before I even found a seat. “Who’s that?” “And I’ve never seen him before,” floated through the funeral home like they thought I couldn’t hear them.

An old white woman clutched her purse tighter when I walked past her row. My chest tightened, knowing this was exactly what Amelia protected me from.

When I finally sat down in the back row, a mother actually grabbed her teenage daughter’s arm. She pulled her to the other side of the room, glaring at me like I was some kind of threat to the funeral.

Madison and Khloe were sitting three rows ahead, and I recognized them from Amelia’s Instagram. They kept turning around to stare. Madison whispered something that made Khloe look down at my shoes.

“Those are knockoffs,” Madison said, not even trying to keep her voice down. “He couldn’t even dress properly for her funeral”.

The irony burned in my throat since Amelia had bought me these shoes for our anniversary. She told me she loved how I looked in them.

“Look at that cheap suit from Walmart,” Chloe added. They both pulled out their phones to take photos of me.

Chloe mocked my knockoff shoes at Amelia’s funeral, the ones Amelia gave me for our anniversary. When I finally spoke, she rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever, you’re just the sad secret she was ashamed of”. I just stared at her.

They were giggling like we were at a high school cafeteria instead of saying goodbye to someone we supposedly loved. So disrespectful.

I tried to focus on the service, on Amelia’s photo at the front. But I couldn’t stop the tears streaming down my face.

My hands shook as I covered my face, trying to grieve privately. Even that became ammunition for them.

“Look at him crying like that,” someone whispered behind me. “Real men control themselves”.

Madison turned fully around in her seat, studying me with narrowed eyes. “He’s talking to himself,” she whispered to Chloe loud enough for the entire section to hear. “I think he’s unstable”.

The grief was choking me, making my body rock slightly as I tried to hold back sobs. Khloe’s voice cut through again.

“Look at how he’s rocking back and forth. Something’s wrong with him. I think he’s autistic”. She grabbed Madison’s arm dramatically.

“Should we call someone? He might snap. These mentally ill people think they have connections that don’t exist”.

An older parent chimed in. My stomach turned, knowing they thought I was some stranger who’d wandered in off the street. “He needs help, not to be at a funeral, disturbing everyone”.

Several people got up and moved seats, making a big show of shaking their heads as they relocated further away from me. The space around me grew like I was contagious.

Khloe started mockingly rocking back and forth in her seat, imitating my grief while Madison filmed it on her phone.

The cruelty of it made my fists clench so hard my nails dug into my palms. When I finally got up to approach the casket to say goodbye to the only person who ever really saw me, Madison’s voice rang out clear and sharp.

“Oh my gosh, you’re that creep who was obsessed with her”. The accusation hit like a physical blow, and everyone turned to stare.

“He probably has photos of her on his phone right now,” she continued playing to her audience. Khloe joined in, her face twisted with disgust. “This is sick”. “You’re getting off on seeing her like this”.

Amelia’s parents stood up along with several other family members, forming a human wall between me and the casket. Madison’s voice carried over the growing commotion. “Don’t let him near the casket”. “These perverts do sick things”.

I stood there frozen, unable to defend myself without making everything worse. Suddenly, Amelia’s little sister broke away from her parents and ran straight at me.

“Tyrone”. She threw her arms around me as everyone froze. Through tears, she begged, “Show them the constellation, the one you both got”.

My hands trembled as I pulled up my sleeve, revealing the intricate constellation tattoo with E plus J hidden in the stars.