The antidote to what doesn't make sense

I know this feeling: the 1996 Centennial Park bombing ... the hours during and after 9/11 ... waking up early before dawn last summer — my daughter Sam telling me about the Aurora massacre ... and again when hearing about the kids of Sandy Hook. 

It's this groggy slam of sorrow and disbelief — at the scale of the carnage, the brazen disregard for human life, and a thrum in your head of "Why? Why?"

What was the point to be made here, and has it been made now that you've blown the legs off a runner or riddled a kid's side with shrapnel?

For the next couple days, just pay it forward. Be extra kind to the jerk in traffic who's rude to you. 

"Love me most when I least deserve it, because that's when I need it most." 

Humanity needs it most right now.