We all had a fun summer but it’s over now. The rest of our life begins now — Autumn is here, the leaves are falling. Soon the sun and the heat will become darkness and shivers, and and all we can do is wrap up warm and put our coats on.

Somebody I know died recently. They took their own life a couple of months back, while I was stressing about my lease renewal, about if work would give me a pay raise, if I could shift a few pounds, while I was worrying about trivial things they were going through things that you or I likely couldn’t even begin to imagine.

We weren’t super close — we weren’t besties or anything. We weren’t at each others birthday parties as children or really as adults, but we did talk quite often — the conversations weren’t earth shattering, they were just normal everyday, dare I say it fairly mundane conversations. Mundane conversations that I have come to miss.

The sparks of our conversations would come, as nearly everything seems to today, from social media. We would discuss the hot new things coming to the area, I remember the introduction of a new scooter rental service was a hot topic for a good couple of weeks. We would discuss work and our living situations, there would be tales and pictures of pets, and I would discuss the details of my life once I’d moved away.

We would often debate our favourite scary movies. They were particularly fond of those jump scare heavy ghost flicks, particularly The Conjuring and all of the various sequels, prequels, spinoffs, etc. I was never the biggest fan myself but I was always happy to debate the subject.

Most telling of all, our conversations would often lead to speculative discussions about meeting up: going for a coffee, for a pint, for a catch up — a catch up that I am sad to report never happened.

I don’t know if these feelings were exclusive to me or if they are more common, but as soon as I got off the phone after hearing the news I was immediately struck by three overwhelming feelings — it was like I was batting in a game of baseball and each pitch was aimed straight at my helmet.

THUD came the first, then once the reverberation goes away…WHACK, there was the second, and not far behind that one, CLUNK came the third ball careening off the thin layer of plastic protecting my brain.

Now, I’m the first to admit that this metaphor might have more holes than a pack of bagels. For starters if you were to be hit on the forehead by a baseball, at any level, you would be given the chance to walk to first base — they certainly wouldn’t send you back out there to face the executioner lasered in on your cerebral cortex stood out on the mound. Full of holes the metaphor may be, but it isn’t all too far off how it felt in the moment so indulge me.

THUD. The obvious first feeling was sadness. Deep sadness for the loss of such a glowing and talented human being. Sadness for never again being sent videos of their dogs while out running errands, sadness for their family, sadness for those I care for that cared for them in turn, and sadness too for the people they were dear to that I either do not know or have not spoken to or seen in years.

While this thought may not have left me immediately, once the initial shock and wave of sadness had lingered for long enough…WHACK, there’s the second one. This is, in a way, a feeling of regret. Regret that I didn’t reach out more, I didn’t go for that catch up, I didn’t ask how they were in the weeks preceding.

Then came the third feeling with a hard CLUNK – this thought is much more difficult and abstract. The third feeling was dread. Dread that life would never and could never return to how it was before I picked up the phone in my bedroom on that day. That was it, I’d made it 25 years without any of my peers dying, I had been lucky, but that was over now.

The indestructible visage of youth had been shattered. For the first time in my life I could look around the room at my friends, my nearest and dearest, and see them for what they, and what ultimately we all are, mortal and vulnerable.

However, while it might be easy to let these thoughts of fragility grind us down, make us consider our position on this spinning ball in the vastness of space, I can’t help but feel that it’s an important thing to remember all the same. After all, if we aren’t conscious that the journey will end at some point, it’s unlikely you will be able to properly sit back, take in the view, and enjoy the ride.

Maybe the end of Summer doesn’t need to be cause for overwhelming sadness, it can instead be a reason to celebrate — celebrate all the good times. You can step into the world outside with renewed optimism and hope, safe in the knowledge that you have and will always have those lasting memories of summer.

In life everybody is nobody, but nobody is nobody to everybody.