I think, for me, it's because I have a hyper awareness of the fragility of life, and how we're not really special, or protected, or different from the people to whom bad things happen.
God knows how many people carriers filled with parents and children travelled that road that day, how many accidents were avoided by a hair's breath by going a little too fast or slow, the people who could have been involved carrying on with their day without realising how close to death they were. And for no particular reason, that beautiful family were the ones all but wiped out. It could have been anyone,anytime.
It's the sheer fucking pointlessness too. Their mum is about my age. I know what it's like to devote your twenties to having children when you're not quite finished forging your own path yourself- it's a careful balance. And anyone with children know how much sheer fucking effort it is, being pregnant, giving birth, raising your babies. Only for them to have less than ten years on the earth. What the hell is the point of it all?
Most of all, I just feel so desperately sorry for the father, the surviving baby, and the family members who were on the receiving end of the worst phonecall they'll ever have.
It's just shit. I'm not one for making big displays of emotion and you wouldn't catch me laying flowers or grief touristing, but I feel it right in my gut, it's utter utter shit.