Sometimes, even when you think you're prepared, you're just not.

So I went to a vigil at the Legislature tonight, in honour of Manitoba's missing and murdered women.

Equipped with an ENG camera, a tripod, audio equipment, an SLR camera, a notepad and my purse, I was ready to cover this vigil for my IPP Blog, Missing Manitoba Women. Since I had been to a number of these vigils before, I assumed that today's homage would be like any other.

I was wrong.

You see, I'd never attended one of these vigils as a journalist before. Nope. I've always gone as an "advocate" or a "supporter" of the cause.

Even with all of my high tech camera equipment, there were a number of things that I failed to capture:

I failed at my attempt to capture the essence of this event-- where mothers of lost daughters sobbed and comforted one another, and the smell of sweet grass and tobacco wafted through the air.

I failed to capture the tears from friends and family who can't seem to move on from the day their sister/daughter/mother/friend, vanished, and the bonds that have formed out of this tremendous pool of loss.

I failed to capture the utterly unfair reality of partly-orphaned children obliviously running around at an event that has become a normal part of their young life.

At this vigil, with my journalist hat on, I failed at really capturing the emotion of the event. It wasn't until I was faced with the decision to film people in their most vulnerable moments, or turn the camera away, that I realized how scary and intrusive this job can be.

I turned the camera away.

Though, I understand that public vigils are an invitation to the media to film and help these families raise awareness for a cause, it is still hard to cover these kinds of events without feeling like you are exploiting people. Especially when you see people you hardly know, or don't know at all, at their weakest.

Tonight was a real eye opener for me.