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The moment I realized the end was near occurred in my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to visit a friend from college who had just relocated there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and basking in the prospect of the party weekend ahead, we chatted nonstop as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – containing vital items such as our favorite wines and my new pair of black clogs – on the overhead rack and made ourselves comfortable in a comfortable double seat. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Looking down, eyes screwed shut, I anticipated the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, similar to cinematic scenes. I remember thinking our relatives and companions hearing the tragic update. That's when the sound of the young girl weeping.

“It's going to be fine,” I murmured, my tone was hoarse. “It’s all over,” I murmured, primarily to calm my own nerves.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her crying shook me out of my trance; here was my chance to help. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen called out, too late. I glimpsed a man with his face covered in blood. An enormous piece of metal had penetrated the window behind us. Afterward, we found out a runaway digger had descended the slope and into the side of the train, leading to the derailment.

Our carriage was stuck with its nose pointing upward. Then came the noise of sirens and another traveler requested that I to hand the child over so he could help her out the window, where children were being evacuated to fire crews on standby. Shortly after, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and descending via a ladder onto the railway line.

Back on terra firma – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. I looked for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, who it turned out had been using the restroom when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler sat down heavily on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine remained intact. Following a 30-minute delay, we made our way in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, visibly shaken. She knew there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and prepared some tea for her while she hoped for information.

With the invincibility of youth, we set the accident aside and carried on with our night out, which featured a unforgettable performance by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, even though several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in avoiding serious injury. Since nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to obsess over the “what ifs” but the child was the one who left a lasting impact on me. Taking care of her and calming her down shifted my focus outward and showed me the worth of focusing on others in a crisis. Over the years, I have frequently pondered if she remembered anything about it, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing with anything, provided we have each other. Having her companionship during the accident made it feel as if I was shielded against the most terrifying aspects. The derailment further transformed my perspective on various difficult situations, providing me with insight – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is invariably an honor to get older.