Death is always but a moment away.
My father died of injuries from a car crash when I was fifteen. I had known his death was coming soon since age twelve.
How had I known? Because of a freak storm you can learn all about on Wikipedia, the Great Appalachian Storm of 1950.
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, our family woke to radio warnings of a fast-moving nontropical cyclone with devastating force. Deep drifting snow and sub-zero temperatures were forecast to arrive in the afternoon. Thanksgiving day had been mild and pleasant. I had turned twelve on June 29.
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