How Can I Explain This to My Daughter?

Unfortunately, there have been many shootings in my lifetime. For some reason, the Aurora attack has weighed on my heart and mind unlike any others. I don't know why exactly. Maybe it's because the majority of the people who died in the attack were my age. I was listening to an NPR report yesterday morning in which they read the deceased victims. "Twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-four..." But then again, maybe that's not it. I don't think that a twenty something year old person is more valuable than a fifty year old person. Maybe it's because there were children there. Maybe it's because I always thought of going to a movie as a safe and innocent activity. The biggest trouble one witnessed was a group of teenagers trying to sneak into an R rated film. Perhaps it's because once I became a mother, I viewed people in an entirely new way. I appreciate the love that went into creating them and raising them. I see them as children at variously grown-up stages. Regardless of one's past, we have all been loved by somebody. Most of us have been cherished by our parents or guardians. And so I feel a very real and close pang of grief whenever I hear of someone dying, especially at the hands of another. Whatever the reason, I can't help feeling like a part of my heart has changed. A sensation similar to motion sickness sets in when I think of it. My pulse quickens. My head feels light. I consider what I could possibly say to Bluma when she asks me why these things happen. What kind of person could be so senseless, selfish and violent? I want her to believe that she is equal to others. That everyone deserves her kindness and respect but how can I do that with a clear conscience when every now and then that's a monster hiding inside a normal looking human being. A factor complicating the matter is that I am not a religious woman. The most common way I hear others explain to their children these events sounds something like this: Everything happens for a reason. God has a plan for everyone and while we can't understand it, we have to believe in it. All of the victims are at peace now in Heaven. That's fine and comforting if you believe in it, but I don't. And I don't want to lie to my daughter. I don't mean lie as in tell her something I believe to be false but as in tell her something is a fact when I don't know it to be. I want to believe there is a heaven and that all of the pain we experience on earth is justified in the end when our good deeds are rewarded but I can't because I know the only thing motivating me to believe that is my own desire for comfort. So what do I say to her? I suppose I'll say the only thing I know to say to myself: Sad things happen. For most of them, we'll never know the reason because there won't be one. Violent acts are not motivated by logic nor are they committed by reasonable people. Nobody deserves to be a victim. We are all humans. We are all equal. All we can do in the wake of a tragedy is to be compassionate to one another and try to learn how to prevent something similar from happening in the future. And to mindful of how short life can be, how precious each moment and experience is and how you should show your love for the people in your life each day, in every way possible. I know the above to be true and it comforts me. I can hope that as I age, I'll find clarity in my thoughts on God and life but I won't try to tell Bluma to believe whatever I think. I want her to find comfort in facts and in the life she can observe. I wish I could give her more than this world has to offer. She deserves more.