January 18, 2000, is a day etched in my brain…. The door gets kicked in, two young men run in, one has a gun, he shoots at me. I pick up the phone call 911 (screaming and asking for help), then they run downstairs. One shot, two shots…I run to go to my daughter; before I can get to the stairs, they run back up, one pushes past me. Then I see the gun again. He shoots at me, hitting me in the head before he runs out the door now hanging by one hinge. I am panicked on the floor, bleeding, trying to find the phone that I dropped as I collapse to the floor. Dialing 911 again, the same calm voice, asking questions, I give all the information I can think of because I fear I might not have another chance to tell him what has happened. Sirens, then the house flooding with police, ambulance drivers…temporary relief and feelings of safety…she is gone, I alone tell the story of stolen smiles, stolen future, lost sense of safety. Days, weeks, months and years filled with grief…the journey forward without my daughter is long, challenging, but still I move forward, for her…for us!