It was just after lunch when my pager went off, a cardiac arrest.

While the others rushed to the station to collect the fire truck, medical gear and uniforms, I went straight to the house as it was between mine and the station. Not recommended, but I had my gear and time matters. On arrival I found a father who had passed away while sitting on the couch watching TV with his two adult children.

They thought he was asleep.

As we did CPR, our focus narrowed to this gentleman and in time his family. The room quickly filled with ambulance officers, but despite all our efforts he was already gone.

As distasteful as it initially sounds, I've said to people before that there is nothing like doing CPR on a person to make you feel alive.

I don't mean it in an insensitive adrenaline junkie kind of way, but in the deeply focusing way that makes you so incredibly grateful for your own life and the blessings in it. Being a first responder is this odd balance of deep empathy and presence, balanced with a required level of detachment. That said, some calls hit you more than others.

For the purpose of this story, the thought that impacted me most started when I walked out of that house.

Despite his peaceful passing, it was still tragic, and the contrast was surreal. Right next door, a birthday party was in full swing, kids laughing, music playing, the smell of barbecue in the air. They had no idea what had just happened on my side of the fence.

And despite the effect the call had on myself and the rest of the crew, I also had to change gears, put on a smile and immediately jump in the car because I'd promised to take my children to the movies that afternoon.

That day has stayed with me for years because in the space of just a few hours I saw two completely different realities playing out right next to each other, one house filled with the deepest kind of grief, and another filled with laughter and celebration.

It's a strange thing to realise that even on the happiest day of your life, right next door someone's world might be falling apart. And the opposite is true too.

I do my best to remember that. We're all living right beside each other's hidden moments, rarely knowing what the people around us are truly carrying. But in recent years I find myself also wishing we could remind ourselves of this for a more generous understanding of each other rather than what often ends as quite binary ways of thinking. We all see the world through very different eyes.