I just learned that one of the victims, Dylan Hockley, was autistic, and died in the arms of his aide. I guess this means we are mourning one of our own, too. I never met him, of course, but somehow I feel like I'm connected to all the other autistic people out there, because we share a common experience, common struggles, common joys. When the world is so confusing, big, noisy, messy, and unpredictable, you have to stick together with the people who find it just as overwhelming as you do. It intensifies my feelings of unfairness over all of this. This boy should have had a full life, should have grown up and learned all about the world.