R.I.P Benazir Bhutto

It's hard to say why I feel bad about Benazir Bhutto's assassination, aside from the obvious fellow-human-being thing. It's not as though I understand her politics, or those of any of the cast of characters running (or trying to run) Pakistan, though it did seem plain to me that she was probably going to get killed sooner rather than later. Terrorists had already taken out 140 of her followers on the day of her arrival in country, and had been hoping to get her, too. It wasn't wise of her to be popping out of the roof of her car, yesterday. How could she not realize she was an easy target?
Perhaps she believed in herself as a woman of destiny, at the last, and thought nothing could stop her. For years, she was the daughter carrying her dead father's mantle, and then it became her own. That's part of what I liked about her, that sense of destiny. There are so few truly powerful women in the world, and here was an intelligent and articulate Muslim woman who refused to hide her face or her opinions. Despite all the accusations of corruption and forced resignations and exile, she always went back to Pakistan, as though she believed she was born to rule.
I saw a picture in today's paper of her, holding her two children in her arms. The next generation, I see one or both of them entering politics in 15-20 years: the next Bhutto. The boy's face was sad, as though he could see his future, written on the bloody pages of Pakistan's history.