Non-fiction. My questions are still un-answered

My questions are still un-answered.
I’m not a believer of psychics; fortunetellers, mediums or links with another worlds. even thinking that dreams have a message doesn’t mean anything to me. However an experience I had when I was in my early twenties is a question I have never yet found an answer to.
It was a very cold mid June day in 1957, I was a club member of our towns Jaycees, a group of young people who helped the community in many ways, for example putting on huge Christmas plays, gathering and delivering firewood for the aged, helping them with jobs around their homes, even painting the local bridge.
On this very wet Sunday afternoon us members were ushering people in the local theatre for a charity concert for a family who had recently had their home burnt down and all their belongings destroyed. Excitement and anxious times surrounded us; all hoping that there would be no problems with the entertainment.
Just as the first introductory song was about to begin, I had a forceful urge to go home. I told my friends I had an urgent call to make and rushed from the theatre, drove my car at high speed to the family home fourteen kilometres away, dashed into the house just as the phone rang, mother was startled to see me, I quickly answered the phone, it was the wife of one of my parents old friends. Jean said she had some bad news for us, I very quickly said I new what she was about to say, “ my father has died” I told her, she was amazed and said “ how would I know that?” I just couldn’t tell her something had forced me to make the journey home in a hurry, with no explanation as to why. There seem to be a hidden power inside me that had such strength that everything else was pushed aside.
The concert had meant a great deal to me as our club had spent weeks organising it and now the time had come to see how successful we had been, there had been acts to organise, plays to find along with costumes, lots of rehearsals, sign writing, posters, and much more, so this Sunday afternoon was a time when everyone concerned were full of tension, then relief when the people started to arrive.
Mother had never understood how I new something was wrong with my dad, myself? I have never found the answer to this once in my life show of an internal power over riding any other activity I had.
My dad had died from a heart attack while away fishing with two of his friends, collapsing on his face with a fishing rod over one shoulder and a bag of fish over the other, a wonderful way to leave this earth for him but a terrible shock to his family.







Word count 484