It wasn't until I really looked at my calendar today that I remembered... 1989.
I was 15 (going on 16) years-old when these women's lives were ended in a way that I couldn't comprehend. I lived in a small town where bad things didn't "really" happen. But this time, the news hit home: I had visited Montreal with my family; I was only 6 years younger than the youngest of those women, and someday soon, I would be going away to university.
For the first time in my life, I think I understood that violence really existed. I still pray for a world where it doesn't exist.