There is usually a gap between knowing something and being able to look at it. In that gap the mind does strange work: it explains, excuses, reorders the story so it stays liveable. Then something shifts — a sentence, a silence, a small inconsistency — and the explanation stops holding. If something is surfacing for you right now, hold it in mind and turn a card.
Death rarely indicates physical death. It represents the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. Something must end for something new to be born. Embrace the change.
Read against what is surfacing, Death puts the weight on transformation and ending. Read against something surfacing, a card points at what the knowing costs. Truth is rarely the hard part; the hard part is what becomes impossible to keep doing once you admit it. That is why the mind delays — not to stay ignorant, but to stay comfortable.
The same card has an opposite face, and it is worth holding both. Reversed, may indicate resistance to necessary changes or incomplete transformation. Let go to be reborn.
So sit with the question you arrived with — What have I half-known for a while? — and notice which of the two readings you flinched at. That flinch is the reading. It is the one piece of this page that came from you rather than from the deck, and it is the only piece that can change anything.
Don't fear transformations. Every ending is a new beginning in disguise.
Nothing here can tell you what happened. It can tell you what you already suspect and have not said out loud yet — and saying it out loud is usually the whole of the next step.