Truths of Old

This is taken from an email, because the recipient of it thought for some strange reason that I should post it on my blog.

... so, okay. Here goes.
"
>When I was a medical student, I was attached "out" to a GP practice in
> a small village near birmingham. He was an old, old GP and he housed
> me with his family on his farmhouse (he owned a large plot of land
> with 4 farms on it)
>
> one of his patients, a young seventeen guy did just that. He walked on
> the tracks into an oncoming train, in a tunnel. The driver said he
> didn't even flinch up to the moment the train hit him, he just kept
> walking forwards.
>
> his funeral had six pall bearers, large men (in the UK they usually
> are) with shoulders broad enough to bear a coffin with dignity. they
> played Chariots of
> Fire as they slow marched down the aisle.
>
> His girlfriend was tall, blonde and very beautiful. She stood still
> with her head up, and she didn't even sob. but her eyes were so sad,
> and the tears ran down her cheeks throughout.
>
> The GP sat next to me, his head down as if in prayer, but I wondered
> if perhaps he was asleep (he was very, very old and sometimes he dozed
> off in clinic)
>
> then I saw a teardrop fall, just one.
>
> It was one of the saddest days of my life, watching this story that I
> didn't even vaguely belong in being played out in front of me.
>
> I could never do that to anybody I loved... not my parents, or even
> some woman (who doesn't exist at the moment).
>
> And I couldn't help but wonder... that young man. What could have made
> him do that, when he had so much?
"