Sarah Stultz is the managing editor of the Tribune. Her column appears every Tuesday.

It has been an adjustment coming back to work since my daughter’s death in July — for reasons other than what I originally anticipated.

Besides the daily work responsibilities and deadlines that come with being in the newspaper industry, one of my favorite parts of my job has turned into one that occasionally brings some slight unexpected anxiety.

In the journalism industry, there are two kinds of news: hard news and soft news.

Hard news is the kind of journalism that is ultra timely, such as a crash that closes traffic on the interstate, a fire that displaces a family or a visit from the governor, to name a few. It’s the kind of news that most media organizations like to get online right away because it is important for people to hear about the story quickly.

Soft news, on the other hand, is something that tends to be more like a feature and is not as time-sensitive.

For many years, hard news has been my favorite kind of news to cover. I enjoy working under pressure, though some of the most personally meaningful and life-changing interviews I have ever had have come from soft news interviews.

For a while when I was in college I thought I wanted to become a feature writer, but then sometime before I graduated and moved to Albert Lea, I realized that my passion was in writing hard news.

For years — before I became managing editor at the Tribune — that’s what some of my key responsibilities were at the Tribune: following crime, courts and crashes.

With those responsibilities, my passion for writing about hard news grew.

Fast forward to almost a week ago Wednesday morning after I heard a crash come over the police scanner as we were finishing up that day’s newspaper.

As I heard about a woman who had been struck by a car on Front Street, my mind could not help but flash back to my daughter, Sophie’s crash.

I listened as officers and ambulance crews responded. I thought about when I first heard the news of the crash and as I drove panicked across town to meet the ambulance.

A few moments later, I caught my mind wandering, and I realized I needed to get back on task and finish that day’s newspaper.

A short time later, a co-worker thoughtfully asked if I was OK listening to the scanner traffic.

For a brief moment, I felt a little anxiety as I heard about the condition of this woman. I guess — I hope — that’s normal.

The only time I have ever felt anything even somewhat similar was in the aftermath of the June 17, 2010, tornadoes. I did not lose my house in the tornadoes, but covering the damage of the tornadoes and the people who lost their homes is something I will never forget.

To this day, I cannot drive on Interstate 90 west of Albert Lea without looking out my driver’s side window toward Ron Woodside’s home. Ron’s wife, Kathy, died from injuries sustained in a tornado that year. Now, five years later, I can tell where the tornadoes traveled — simply because of how the tree branches look.

I’m sure I will have more of these experiences as time passes, but I have recognized that what I have experienced over the last two months has given me more empathy toward victims of any kind of tragedy.