I read a book once about how the transcription of the Christian bible over the centuries probably had enough scribal errors to seriously distort whatever the original scrolls said.
So I was pleased to learn that the transcription of a Sefer Torah has extremely strict guidelines, because it means that scribal errors are not left in the text, so a later copy is just as faithful to the original as an earlier copy. One does not mourn the loss of the original scrolls for their information because all the textual information they contained is still available.
That being said, whoever lost those original scrolls still mourned, because this is the proper treatment of a Torah Scroll when it is too damaged to be of use. Such scrolls are buried with full honors, similar to how American flags are burned with great ceremony rather than being discarded. The Torah Scroll is treated with utmost care during its lifetime and never touched directly by human hands.
Being not Jewish myself, and having no personal connection to such a sacred object, I could never mourn the scroll's loss as deeply as its congregation would. When I read of the synagogue in California that suffered the deliberate vandalism of multiple Torah Scrolls, I did not understand what that meant to their keepers until the matter was explained to me. Even then I grieved mostly for their grief. One wonders if their vandal understood the grief they were causing, or if they knew little of the Sefer Torah as most Goyim know little.
It is difficult for me to think of a comparable example for Goyim because there's nothing quite like the Torah Scroll for us -- a sacred text whose words are the very basis of one's religion and community, whose text is faithful as it can possibly be to the writings of the ancient ancestors. The only thing that comes close, on a collective basis, would be the original document of the U.S. Constitution. If someone were to take that paper and tear it in half, all America would be horrified. If they were to throw it into fire, all America would mourn.
I'd like to think that I have something similar on a personal level, though it only rises to the level of extended family, not community. My grandmother gave me two textbooks of English literature from her own school days. She told me they would serve me well. They also contain notes in her handwriting. If I were to lose those books, I would mourn the loss of one of the last things I have of her. If someone were to take the books and destroy them, I would rightly consider it a personal attack.
But there's nothing quite like the Sefer Torah. Not in the form of texts, at least.
I think if you want to know what losing a Sefer Torah is like, imagine how everyone reacts to the death of a beloved friend.