When I was in college, I witnessed a fatal car accident when I was taking a walk. A large truck had hit a smartcar and took off. I ran to the car to see if the driver was alright and I saw a man there with shrapnel from the car coming out of his chest. The door had been crumpled shut and I looked inside of his car to see that his legs were pinned. I couldn't see the damage that had been done to his lower half, but I could tell by how soaked his shirt was in blood that he wasn't going to make it out alive.
He was very calm as I tried to call 911, not making a noise. After I had called for an ambulance, the man leaned forward to his broken window and motioned to me with his strained eyes. I went up to him. His eyes stayed on me as blood began to dribble from his lips. He struggled to open his mouth as he uttered his final words to me.
After he choked the last word out, his head slumped forward and I could tell that he was no longer with us. Death was never real to me before then and I spent weeks thinking about my own mortality.