I love my job, I really do. But it can get tough. I know… it doesn’t sound that hard, I sit in a studio playing music, doing interviews, reading poetry and producing short journalism pieces. I don’t mean tough as in "its hard and stressful". I mean tough as in "this is the 5th or 6th prep period that I’ve cried".

A father dropped off some information today, and a couple CDs with a short note.

Andrea was 16 when she left home - she was looking for something and had dreams of marriage and a family with a man she had met through a friend. Andrea’s dreams did not come true, she ended up hooked on drugs and was forced into selling her body on the streets of East Vancouver. Andrea went missing in June 2002 - she was just 21 years old.

She was one of Pickton’s victims.

The music that he left… I can’t even begin to describe it. Here are the lyrics:

Missing’s a word that can’t begin to describe
The way I miss you more each day
You left to chase the wind on high
and the rain rained down to stay

Will they remember me when I’m gone
you said, what I’ve kissed goodbye to pain
or will their lives just carry on
in the small hours of the rain

You may be lost in the eye of the world
but how can I set you free
when there’s a whole empty world in my aching heart
You’re the missing part of me

How far from home is "missing"?
In our prayers you’re close beside us every day
When you left to chase the wind so high
the rain moved in to stay

You may be an orphan in the eyes of the world
can we ever love anyone enough?
You’ll always have a home in our loving hearts;
You’re the missing part of us

Other can say you are missing
But we find you in each moment of the day
You left to chase the wind up high
and the rain never went away

How can we believe in a merciful world
that could never believe in you enough?
Take what strength you need from our fearless hearts;
You’re the missing part of us

Missing means you’re gone, I can’t find you
My dear one, I’ll never hold you again.
You left to chase the wind too high
and the rain can’t wash my tears away

You may have disappeared in the eyes of the world
but when I close my eyes I’ll always see
Your name, the way you smile, inside my wishful heart,
The missing part of me

He then left me with pages upon pages of information about sexual exploitation. A list of women that have fallen victim in Canada. … And a newsletter about Haven House… a program in BC to help people who have fallen victim to poverty, violence, addictions and/or sexual exploitation… saying that the program has run out of funding and will be shut down.

For the next week on my show… I have to put together interviews with not only the people who have to shut down this place of refuge, but also with the family who lost their daughter first to sexual exploitation and then again at the hands of a man who thinks women are no better than pigs.

Some people around the office say that I’ve let my emotions run to heavily into my pieces, such as the show I did for the Montreal Massacre. But really… how can we not get attached? Effected? Emotional? With things that are so horribly unbelievable that they almost sound fictional.

…sigh… it’ll be a tough show.