It is a somber affair.

My earliest recollection of a funeral is that of my father's and the last one I attended was my own.

I take Andre's hand immediately he opens the door for me. I lift my head to face the church before us. Few people are awkwardly standing outside. There is a van belonging to one of the top media houses, the moment they spot us, some of the reporters rush towards us, and several photos are snapped.

"Don't answer any of their questions," Andre whispers. I lock his arm with mine.

I follow Andre's lead closely as we try to avoid the reporters. We are lucky...