Three of us are dead. Three of us who bought groceries from Sobeys on Vaughan Harvey Boulevard and went to Wildcats games at the Coliseum. Three of us who hold our kids when nightmares scare them from their beds. Three of us are dead and gone because of a young man with a gun. Again. The world will say the same old things about guns, and mental illness and angry young men with something to prove. They'll say the same things about the Seattle killing. Then they'll sit and wait for another tragedy somewhere else. And when the same conversations come up, we'll nod knowingly. Three of us are dead. And once again, we don't know why.