"The people experiencing the most pain tend to be the ones who are always trying to make others smile."
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The only reason you went to his funeral was because you were forced to.

Mark would've been just fine if no one showed up to his funeral. He was dead, he wouldn't give a shit. But everyone insisted that it was proper to honor his life. You rolled your eyes upon hearing that.

You didn't want to go because you didn't want to cry in front of so many people that you didn't really know, mainly Mark's family and the very few relatives that you had. They all were pissed to find out about the marriage and how they weren't invited. They insisted that it was rude because family is supposed to stick together through thick and thin and that they should've had the opportunity to see the huge milestone in yours and Mark's life.
But you knew that's what he wanted. He wanted to get married with just his two closest friends there in attendance.
"But is that what you really wanted?"
Those words hit you hard. Is it truly what you really wanted? You just gave him the location and he did the rest of the planning. Did you truly want a private wedding?
"No." You said. You weren't lying, you were actually telling the truth. You thought that the only thing that mattered was that you married him. "All that matters is that we had a wonderful wedding."
The person that asked you that looked extremely offended by your statement. You just shrugged because you were being honest.

*****

You barely listened to the family members that chose to speak because you were too busy being caught up in your own grief. Only because you loved him more than anyone else in this room (That's what you thought at least because they barely made an effort to see him in the first place), you decided that you would go up there and speak.
"Now we will hear some words from Mark's wife, (Y/N)."
Everyone seem to be disgusted when they heard "wife". It was like you were called a whore or something.

You cleared your throat and opened up a piece of paper that had your speech on it. You weren't going to follow through with the movie cliché where the boyfriend or girlfriend plans on bringing a piece of paper but they end up speaking from the heart. You just couldn't do that. You weren't really good at winging it.
"Where do I even begin with the wonderful things of Mark Edward Fischbach? Do I start with the fact that he was a major goofball or the fact that he always seemed to be happy and carefree?"
You saw several people wipe away tears when you briefly glanced up from your paper. You looked back down at it and continued.
"Let's just start with how he changed my life. Apparently it all started in high school when I had just returned from Hell. Not literally, but it felt like it." You knew that some religious people were out there in the crowd and the last thing you wanted was to piss them off by saying that you literally went to Hell.
"He apparently helped me through high school. I don't really remember these years because of two things. One of those things is the fact that I got into a car accident that wiped away pretty much all of my memories. I slowly gained them back and I pieces together who I really was. But I still don't remember some things. The second thing was that Mark never told me what went down in high school. I don't really know why he never did, it seemed pretty important. Now, Mark gave me much more than I can even fathom. He gave me a home, he gave me a friendship, and, most of all, he gave me his love. He gave me genuine, pure, and legitimate love. That's something that happens once in a lifetime. I was lucky enough to experience it with him."
You paused again because you felt like you were going to cry. You still refused to cry in front of all of these people. You didn't even want to be up here speaking in the first place so it would only be made worse by you breaking down.
"He acted like a total doofus sometimes, but I still loved him. He cheered me up when I was upset and he was the shoulder that I could lean on when I needed him the most. It's a shame that someone like him had to go. Why couldn't someone else go? Like, for instance, there are murderers running all over the world. Why can't they be killed? Why must it be the ones that we love that die? The world is so unfair. I sound like a child when I say this but it's true. It seems like the world is never fair. Everyone that I have ever loved has died around me so it's hard for me to truly love people anymore. Why would I in the first place if they're just going to die? I don't even know if I can handle any more loss. All of these deaths have literally broken me. I'm done. I've closed my heart off because I can't accept people anymore."
You left it on that note. Silence filled the room until loud sobs from someone sitting in the very back ran throughout the building. You folded the piece of paper and lifted the lid to Mark's casket and put it in there. You couldn't look at him. You didn't want to look at his dead body again. You didn't think that you could handle it.
"I'm so sorry." You said, still trying to hold back tears. "I'm sorry that you have to be here right now. I know that this isn't what you wanted."
You walked back to your seat that was right in between Bob and Wade.
"It's okay to cry you know." Bob said as you adjusted your veil and the all black dress that you wore. You hated the look. You looked like a widow and you hated that. You were way too young to be a widow. That's what you thought, at least.
"I know." You said. "But there's no way that I'm crying in front of everyone here. I barely even know them."
"You make a fair point." Wade said, standing up. "Come on. We've got to bury him."
You just wanted this whole thing to be over. You just wanted to go home and cry alone.

*****

You were barely listening to the words being said around you as they lowered Mark's casket into the ground. You didn't even bother to read the headstone because that would only prompt you to cry in front of these strangers.
"I'm sorry darling." A woman wearing all black just like you were said as she hugged you. You awkwardly hugged her back. She claimed to be your aunt on your mother's side. She certainly looked a lot like your mother. She had the same ice blue eyes and the same warm smile that haunted you due to the fact that your mother was no longer with you. She had overdosed on her medication when your father had died. She didn't want to be a widow.
And you didn't blame her.
You've seen what happens to some of them after their spouses have been gone for so long. They start talking to them like they're actually there in the same room sitting with them and they insist that they're there even though that other people couldn't see them.
Was that going to be you one day? Were you going to be the crazy old woman who lost her husband to brain cancer many years ago and is now talking to him as if he never died? You certainly didn't want that to happen, but things happen, even if you don't want them to.
And that's when you felt something brush against your wrist.