Sadly faceless.

It started with an unusual message a couple of nights ago.

And then the next morning, while talking to someone from work, I came to a sudden and surprising realisation.

I remember reading about the first doctor to fall, and feeling sad that youth can be just as fragile, as is love and the bond between a man and a woman. I remember thinking it must be terribly traumatic for the young woman, whom he was to have married in a few months, and she was reported to have "gone into seclusion". I remember how my heart ached for him, for her, for both of them, and my eyes welled up as I read the news.

Until then, she was just a faceless representation of that fragility.

I now know she's an ex-colleague. And it felt so weird, because frankly speaking, I've never been close to her. She was just someone whom I had to share office space with. So, my earlier reactions seemed excessive, and almost intrusive. I felt conflicting emotions within. But as I again thought about the young doctor and his fiance, the same sadness rippled through me.

Then I had to call her, about work, which would have been OK -- except work concerned her recent loss. And when her voice broke, so did mine.

I know that it is not sympathy that I feel for someone I know. Because sadness doesn't need a face.