Having been a news reporter now for 30 years I can honestly say there have been many times when I’ve had to do an interview, write, a story that either tugged at my heart or knotted my gut.

On Friday both happened at the same time and I haven’t been able to shake it for days now.
Maybe it’s because there was a mother-to-mother connection made during the interview. Or, maybe it’s because for me the pain of losing a loved one is still very raw. Or, maybe it’s both. But all I know is I can’t stop thinking about these people – a mother and the beautiful little girl that was snatched away for no reason at all; Not any that makes sense to me, that is.

My assignment on Friday was to locate and interview the mother of Blair Shanahan Lane, the little 11-year-old girl killed by a stray bullet while she danced and played on the lawn on July 4th.

I found the mother, Michele Shanahan-DeMoss, through a friend of hers who told me Michele was shopping and I could meet her at the Nordstrom at Oak Park Mall where she would be buying the dress she would bury her little girl in.

Phew! OK! I knew that would be hard but off I went not knowing in what state I would find this mother, since her only child had died just two days earlier.
Also, I knew from experience that this was not your normal child died kind of thing. This innocent little girl had been shot and killed — randomly. Here one minute, dancing, singing, playing, full of hope, and promise. Then in a split second nothing.

How do you deal with that?
I’m not sure I could. I think I would totally lose what little sense I have.  The idea that someone was shooting a gun into the air just ticks me off. Where the heck did they think the bullet was going to go? Did they even care that it had to come down and could hurt some one, kill some one even?

I met the mom at the Nordstrom Café. She was with two of her sisters and a best friend; Beautiful women, all four of them.
I asked one question. What happened? That opened the flood gates of emotion. I think often when something like this happens, friends and family stray away from talking to the mother about the incident or even about the child because they don’t want to upset them. So, when someone like me asks them to share it just all pours out.

She told me her daughter was her whole life. She had no other biological children (she does have some grown step-children) and she felt as if this little girl was her purpose. She called her daughter, her mini-me they did nearly everything together. She was her mother and her friend. They talked a lot and looked after one another, sharing accessories and shopping together. Michele had nick-named her daughter bumble bee.

Through tears that at times flowed from a wrenched up face, she told me stories about how the little girl would take charge organizing block parties and meeting all the neighbors. She said there wasn’t a neighbor on their street that hadn’t had Blair over for a visit. She was a girl scout, she sang in the church choir. She was a girly girl who could repel, climb, and start a camp fire by herself.
She had just gotten braces, in her favorite colors — pink and green. They were planning to re-do her room changing it from little girl to pre-teen décor.
Like any kid she had dreams and plans. She was going to start a foundation to buy colorful socks for needy children, especially foster babies, (her mom is launching it online for her now.)

The worse part was hearing details of the day the little girl was shot. He mom wept again talking about how she held her hand over the wound in her daughter’s neck and blood still pooled on the ground. She said her little girl just stared at her as if begging her mother to fix this, or at least that’s the way Michele saw it.
But she couldn’t fix it. Nobody could.

When that interview was over I must admit I felt so close to that mother. I really hurt for her. I maintained my professionalism but it was really hard, especially when she stood up and hugged me tight, cheek to cheek.
It was like she was thanking me for letting her talk about her daughter.

Wow! I drove back to my office praying that I had the talent to do that little girl’s story justice. I just wanted other folks to feel what I felt listening to her mother.
Plus I had to beg for a chance to intrude on this woman’s sorrow. I didn’t want to waist what she had shared.

You know I’ll never know how she felt about the story. I heard from a lot of other people though that it was a tear jerker.
It certainly made me cry, when I was at home by myself thinking about what she had lost, forever. I wished my boys were home from their summer vacations so I could hug them.
I’ll hug them when they return. I’ll never forget Blair’s story and I’ll never forget the look on her mother’s face when she said, “She was my whole entire being. Like she was all I was ever going to do.”