On a sunny Friday in July 2006, I received a phone call that no one should. Through tears and crying, my then 14-year-old daughter strangled out “Mom, Cherie’s been shot.” The phone was handed off to one of my sister’s colleagues, who gave me more information. My sister had been shot in the arm. I called my Mom. Her daughter was at Harborview, and her granddaughter was with the police. It would not be until later that night, after driving five hours from home to my Mom’s, that I would find out that not only had my sister been shot — and in the stomach, not the arm — but that my daughter had been held at gunpoint in the entrance to the Jewish Federation.
The shooter robbed my daughter of her innocence, her teens (she does not remember ninth grade) and so much of her time. To this day, she spends so much of her week dealing with anxiety, chronic/traumatic pain and lots of self care. He robbed my sister of years of her life recovering. He robbed my time, too.
I fight gun violence now with Moms!