On February 23, 2015, I woke up to my father standing over me.  I had moved from my room in his home in Starkville to the couch in the family room at around 5:30a to make sure he didn't leave the house without me.  I fell asleep and was quite shocked to wake up to him standing over me saying, "I can't believe you're really here....Oh My God!"  It was 7:15a.

With the sandman refusing to leave my eyes for a few more minutes, I gazed at my father trying to compute what I was seeing.  Was he really standing there with his Hanes tighty whities and a Hanes t-shirt?  That couldn't be my reality!  My father has always put a robe on.  He has never been around me with only his underwear on.  Never.  But, as my eyes started to clear up, I realized I was not dreaming or imagining things.  Dadio was standing there with a very concerned look on his face. It appeared he was still struggling with the fact that I was there.  It was like we started all over again from the time he arrived from church the previous day.

Suddenly, he walked away from me quickly, grabbing his phone.  He said, as he was walking quickly towards his room, "I'll call Peggy.  She will protect you."

By now, I was very awake and following close behind, "Protect me from what?"

He arrived in his room and sat on the edge of his bed, holding his phone to his ear while he waited for my Aunt Peggy to answer.  "I need you to come.  I need you to come right now," he said to my Peggy.

As he talked to my aunt, he got up and walked to the window to look down the road where he anticipated my aunt would be coming.  My eyes wandered back to the bed and that's when I saw it.  The gun.  It was in its holder laying on the pillow.  As my eyes locked in on the gun, my father noticed that I had spotted it.  I turned around, grabbed my phone and called 911.

"My father is suicidal.  Please come.  I need your help..." I said, sternly.  Suddenly we lost connection.  I put the phone down and ran back into the room.  While my father was still by the window, I stood between him and the bed where the gun was. While he continued to talk to my aunt about coming back to his house, he approached me and started pushing me to leave the room.  I stood my ground and said, "No, Dad.  I'm not leaving. Stop. No."

He finally walked out of the bedroom.  I followed him with a hint of relief.  He was now out of the room where the gun was and I had a better chance of keeping him away from it until my aunt or the police arrived.  Suddenly, I heard my phone vibrating on the dining room table.  I grabbed it while Dad continued to talk to my Aunt.  It was the 911 operator, "Ma'am?  Are you ok?" 

"Yes, I replied.  I need help now!" I said.

"Does he have a weapon or anything?" she asked.

"YES!! He has a gun!!" I replied with irritation.

"Ok Ma'am. Stay on the phone.  What is the address?" she asked.

By now, my father is growing interested in my phone conversation.  I quickly tell her the address and I see my father has hung up his phone.  I didn't hang up and laid my phone down on the dining room table so they could hear everything.

The next few minutes were the most intense moments of my entire life.

Dad was all of a sudden playing a game in the kitchen where he was trying to get past me to get to his bedroom.  It was similar to the games kids play when they are on opposite sides of a bed and one wants to get to the door but the other is in the perfect position to stop the other from getting to the door no matter what they try.  I was in a similar situation with my father only we were on opposite sides of the kitchen counter.

Finally, out of frustration and desperation, my father took off running out of the kitchen, through the family room, into the living room with an attempt to make his way back to his bedroom.  There I stood, in the perfect position to interrupt his quest.  I was between him and the hallway that led him to his room.  I braced myself and as Dad came running, I used the weight of my body to go against him and push him into the wall.  He fell into the armoir, table and wall.

At this point, everything in my body was screaming.  I cannot describe the inner turmoil that was boiling in my body and mind as I physically fought my father.  My father and i have never had any physical abuse between us.  So, to suddenly be TRYING to hurt him, to stop him, went against EVERY fiber in my body.  I literally hurt whenever we made contact from this point forward.

He got up and charged me again.  I punched him in the chest and pushed him with all my strength.  He fell into the dining room table.  I saw his brown body falling against the white carpet.  There was a part of me that still had not quite gotten over the fact that he was in his whity tighties and t-shirt.

He was like the terminator.  The look in his eyes was cold and empty.  He just wasn't there anymore.  He got up, seemingly unhurt, and tried to push me aside again.  I pushed him down again.  This time he hit a lamp as he went down.  In that split second, I ran to the front door just a few feet away and opened it.  I wanted the police or my aunt to be able to come right in to help me whenver they arrived.  I quickly ran back to my dad as he was getting up off the floor.  I screamed at him, " NO DADIO. NO!  DO NOT DO THIS! DO NOT DO THIS!  STOP DADIO!  NO!"

In that instant, he seemed to snap out of it.  In that instant, he looked into my eyes and said, "Ok.  Ok.  Alright." 

I helped him up and we put our arms around each other as we started walking away from his bedroom towards the kitchen.  I said, "It's all going to be ok, Dadio.  I am here.  We are together.  Everything will be fine. I love you."

And just that quickly, he snapped again.  He dropped his arm and pushed me as he turned around to start running towards his room again.  I ran and grabbed him by his waist.  I used all my weight to pull him backwards, away from his room.  He pulled and pulled...until his shirt finally ripped and I fell onto the floor. 

I got up, ran and jumped on him. I tied my legs around his torso and held his head screaming, "Stop it!  NO!  Don't Do This!"

He was never rough with me.  He never hurt me.  He simply used his strength to push me off of him.  It took a while but he finally got me off of him by pushing me into the wall so I couldn't hang on anymore.  I fell into the study as he crossed the threshold into his room.  The gun was waiting for him in the same spot on the pillow.

At this point, I feared for my own life.  I ran.  I ran as fast as I could...out of the front door that was already open, across the driveway, across the frozen grass, and into the treeline near the road where I was praying to see dust flying from the wheels of cars speeding towards us.  No car, no dust in sight yet.

I was so scared.  I feared hearing the gunshot.  I held my ears.  I kept looking down the road and back at the house hoping he wouldn't come after me.

Then, there he was...walking across the lawn on the back of the house.  He was ~20 yards from me.  His torn t-shirt was flopping in the wind. It was 27 degrees out and he was barefoot in his underwear.  I could barely see the gun in his right hand and something else was in his left hand.  Later I learned it was his phone.  He walked towards the same treeline I was in only ~20 yards from me.  I screamed, "No Dadio.  No.  Don't do it."

Suddenly, I saw dust from the road flying and I could see the shimmer of the sun reflecting off parts of cars driving aggressively down the road towards my father's house.  My aunt peggy led the police fleet. In a matter of seconds, we had about 5 cop cars and my aunt's car in my father's driveway. 

I ran out of the woods and startled my aunt Peggy.  I explained and pointed to where Dad was and she started walking towards the treeline.  I stayed by the car, turned around so I didn't see him or my aunt Peggy, and held my ears.  I didn't want to see or hear IT if it happened.

Aunt Peggy pleaded with my father to not do this.  She said that this wasn't what their Mom and Dad would want.  My grandmother had passed only 4 months prior.  She was 97 and had a full wonderful life.  My father was at her bedside when she took her last breath.

A deputy approached my aunt and asked her to step behind the car with me.  He wanted to talk to my father down.  I felt my aunt come closer to me but I couldn't look at her.  I kept looking at the trees and birds that were in front of me.  I heard the muffled voice of the deputy and a distant muffled voice of my father responding to the deputy.  This went on for a few short seconds.  Then there was a few seconds of silence....and....pop!

The shot echoed in the trees.  Still staring at the trees in the distance, I could see several police officers running towards the treeline where I last saw my father.  Silence.  I heard nothing. Nothing.  This may have been the moment I left my body.

Then, there was the deputy standing in front of me.  I was still standing there looking beyond him, holding my ears.  "I'm so so sorry.  He's gone."

I screamed, "Call an ambulance.  He may not be gone yet.  Call an ambulance right now."

"I'm sorry ma'am.  We did call an ambulance but he's gone," he said, "do yall mind if I pray with you?"

At this point, the deputy could have grown 20 feet tall and looked like an alien from another planet, I wouldn't have noticed.  I really didn't care what he said or did. I needed to call my mom and my partner.  Crying wasn't an option... yet.  I had things to do, including allowing the shock to move through my body.

A couple days later, I learned what those finals words were that my father uttered to the deputy just before pulling the trigger, "Tell my daughter I love her and I'm so sorry but I have to do this."