I passed by my church and a funeral service was taking place. I did not know the deceased, but I still felt a piercing pain deep inside of me. As I walked by, they were singing 'aheza mu ijuru roughly translating to "the beautiful place heaven". This song is typical for funerals, to the extent of being weird when sung for other occasions. More than two people die each day, according to Statistics, yet I was directly acquainted with death at age sixteen. Yes, I had a cousin who passed away when I was little, but I barely remember her. And in the occurrence of the 1994 genocide, I might have lost family, but I do not know them, and neither was I told their stories. In primary, a very close friend lost his mother, and then his father; but we couldn't really comprehend what it meant. He was happy he could skip school and play ball. The first person I lost was my maternal grandmother. She died in October of 2014. The funeral took place on a Monday, and I was doing...