Storm is Coming

Storm

Premise: January 30, 2013, a series of tornado-spawning thunderstorms race across the Midwest U.S. There is a report of an unknown man losing his life while trying to shelter himself from the fury of these storms. His name is not given, nor his location, but the story is based on fact. Whether or not it pertains directly to this unfortunate soul, others have perished in similar fashion countless times throughout the history of these natural disasters. Digest this information accordingly. Thanks for reading.

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The wind picks up. This guy is just out on his land, doing his thing, but what was his thing this day? Maybe he was on his farm, doing farm things, but what about that moment? Maybe having a smoke, petting his dog, in those final moments that he was unaware were his final moments, what was going on with this poor unfortunate guy? We can only speculate. Like I said, whatever he was doing, around him the wind gets stronger, then stronger, then louder and stronger. He looks up and notices the sky looks quite dark and violent. He sees the trees really starting to move, maybe hears thunder and lightning mixing in with the ever-growing force of the wind. Now he must be thinking, “This is getting a little crazy.” Or was he? Did he just not take it too seriously until the last minute? Or did it come up so fast that he had only so far he could go to try to escape? In his own world to himself, there he was, one lone little being against an over-whelming force of nature. What exactly happened?

Let’s say that he just was so into his own world that he thought it wasn’t going to be as serious as it was, until it was too late. Here he was, going about his own personal trip, then the weather gets strange. But by the time he realizes the unusuality of this weather, it becomes violent. He realizes that now he is in a very precarious situation. The wind is really blowing now, and he hears a high-pitch noise, like a distant train getting exponentially closer by the second. He looks around, there is only a shed to protect from the elements. He instinctively hides inside, assuming that the safety of any shelter would fare better than an outright open struggle against the wrath of nature’s fury. What could be going through his mind; thoughts of the immediate safety of this hiding spot, thoughts of those he loves, thoughts of not surviving, fear, or does he let go, does he pray? Then the wind gets so loud he becomes deaf, all gets dark, everything shakes, a lot of chaos and commotion, intense violence, all in a few seconds, yet time makes it seem like a little eternity before whoosh, and he’s gone away with the storm. All of the horror over seemingly as quick as it began. And now he’s just a death, a casualty, just in the wrong place at the wrong time or the right place at the right time depending on your perspective of everyone’s individual role in this existence. 

Now let’s also ponder if it all happened so fast, he had even less time to contemplate his dire situation. Here he is, on his trip as before, doing whatever it was he was doing. He is really into his current job or task or melodrama that he fails to notice the sky above him changing rapidly. He senses the wind but dismisses it as normal, just the front before an everyday thunderstorm. Nothing to get too worried about. Suddenly, the wind whips really strong, and then another even stronger gust, enough to get his attention, then the high-pitch noise seems to come from nowhere and be right upon him. Everything becomes a vortex of destruction around him. The noise becomes overbearing; sounds of trees breaking, the roaring of the tornado, death upon you. He dives into this little shed, mistakingly assuming that it can shield him from the fury of this monster. There is no time to think of anything, himself, those he loves, tomorrow, he is in pure adrenal survival mode. The darkness ensues. For a moment, the shed holds and maybe he gets a fraction of time to have a thought of something, of anything. But by the time that thought is finished, the whoosh comes for him, the infinite loudness grows quiet as he leaves his shell and this mortal coil. 10 minutes earlier, he would’ve never imagined this for himself, now here he is, gone with the wind. 

   Either way you choose to look at it, I hope you all have gained some perspective on how sacred time is and how none of your time should be taken for granted. At any moment, it can all change so very fast. This poor soul was here, and now he is not. One can look at it and think, “It was just his time.” One can also look at it as just another freak occurrence. The fact is that I didn’t know this guy. He may have been a total asshole and a waste of life and so his departure will be missed by no one. He may have also been the sweetest fellow in the world, a good father, noble brother, wise grandfather. Maybe he wasn’t old enough to be any of those, maybe he still had a lot of life left. The story gives no detail, no age, no location, no name. The story may not even be real, but this story has happened many times before, so for me to illustrate it holds true regardless of when and where and who. Just thought I would give you all some food for thought today as these storms continue to unfurl across the US heading East. I have immortalized this poor guy’s tragedy in words that go beyond his soon-to-be-made tombstone and his forthcoming obituary. Despite who he may or may not have been, I’ll give that to him for losing his life to Mother Nature. May he fare well wherever his soul may be. Stay alert and stay informed, eyes wide open. Love to all. 

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