There are some deaths which, upon occurrence, arrest the considerations of the public at large. There is something—be it the public visibility of the individual or the curiously unusual or wholly universal circumstances surrounding the death—that coerces our attention and empathy.
For me, the first recognition of this phenomenon was while sitting at the bar with my wife at the Red Lobster in Waco, Texas. We were waiting on a table. It was September 1, 1997. The televisions scattered around us announced that an English princess had died. Our collective grief ignited; a planet wept. I cried right along. Sitting there with cheese sticks and a Dr Pepper, I cried for a princess I didn't even know.