September 11, 2021, was my daughter’s second birthday party, and I was unaware I was being watched as I returned home with her cake. “If I can’t have you, no one can” were my ex’s last words to me before the gun shot, putting a 9mm through my head just centimeters below my right temporal lobe. After realizing what he had done, he called 911, gave me a towel and said, “I just grazed you. I’m sorry.”
As I laid on my bedroom floor, I felt weak and tired; I was dying. I began to pray, and my late grandfather, who passed in 2019, appeared as a bright and shining Angel. He put his hand on my head and said, “You’re going to be okay Mija.” Giving me the strength I needed to get up off my floor, walk downstairs and outside to officers. My children followed after me, and my four-year-old son told officers that Daddy shot Mama. He had seen it all.
When I saw my children after the shooting, my son said. “Mama, you’re OK. Daddy didn’t kill you because you’re a Power Ranger.”