They boarded that flight as they had many others, so many times before. They were mothers, daughters, fathers, brothers… who did not think twice, when the attendant shut the door. Sixty-four passengers aboard the plane. Three in the helicopter. The tragedy is one we cannot fathom nor explain, as a faceless God appears today as a monster. Because when something like this happens, only the lucky find solace in faith… And even they struggle as they are forced to question, how a loving God could cause such pain. But those of us without the comfort of a higher power or religious explanation, question why bad things happen to good people – the ultimate puzzle to humans for generations. Yet, what most of us do not admit, is that the tragic fate of others makes us think about ourselves… We think, “Oh god, that could’ve been me… And so why was it not? Why someone else?” Regardless, all our questions are rooted in the same – they all seek a reason for the why… Desperate for answers, we curse our brains for failing to respond to our cries. Theologians and philosophers have been pondering for centuries about the same inquisitions we have today, They have come up with nothing but theories that run in murky shades of gray. And so while the search for the why is nothing new, it is human nature, running hot through our blood… We realize, that without the answer, life will pursue and while time will heal, it won't leave us untouched. But for our entire lives, curiosity will linger, as again and again, we seek knowledge out of our grasp to understand why suffering persists… to understand why the plane crashed. Like all of us, I too am a victim of curiosity - especially at times like this. At times when reality is grotesquely incomprehensible, I wish I had ignorance and its bliss. Because when I saw the news about the tragedy, that this time had hit so close to home, while my heart sank, suddenly becoming so heavy, in my mind, the why outcried in echo. Unable to ignore it, I have been thinking all day about the abrupt and unnecessary loss of life… And because I am a writer, this is what I will say, as I think about those who died: I used to believe everything happens for a reason, but when I look at the world today, I doubt that belief. In a time when power lies in the hands of demons, it is no wonder that most of us are stricken with grief. Because in a world where the innocent are killed, and death knocks on the door of the young so often, no amount of happiness that has been instilled within us, can aid in our exhaustion. We are tired of the bad news and cold-hearted souls. We are tired of the death of youth and governing assholes. We are tired of promises that are never actually kept. We are tired of our society, that seems to be a wreck. But most of all, we are tired of the constant fear, living in the back of our heads… Knowing the commonality of tragedy means it is always near, and that we could be the next one on the news pronounced dead. Because the bottom line is that anyone could have been on that flight, on that tragic night, January twenty-ninth. There is no reason we survived and they didn't. We are not special or ‘blessed’ because we survived. Truth be told, it was a tragic accident, and if a God exists, they were not present when those people died. And most of us will deny our subconscious thought that we are grateful it wasn't us… But the loved ones of the victims would not hesitate to trade places with the ones they loved. Regardless of our relation to those on board, as humans, all our hearts are breaking. We feel the pain for others in our core, it is the kind of sympathy that needs no explaining. So alas, let us not remember them as victims, but as people just like us. Their ending does not define their lives, nor does it do it an ounce of just. Think of them as who they were – people like you and me. People who had struggles, sure, but also hopes and dreams. Do not let them be forgotten – learn and speak their names. Know them not in death, but in life, and they will not have died in vain.