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  • Becka Eppley

Obituary

Updated: Sep 16, 2018

With an ache in my gut and tears seeping from my eyes, I sat down to write his obituary.  I didn’t want to let him go. I had so many hopes placed on who I wanted him to be. It was time to say goodbye. It was time to pen the words that would recount the daunting realty of a man who was not my father.


The words came, but seem to be jumbled up like seaweed knotted together on the central California shore. I didn’t want to think this out; I didn’t want to let go. Each day I had waited for him and I had looked for him. I had caught glimpses of his shadow, but was never able to sit safely in his embrace.


You see, I had spent most of my teenaged years and my twenties being extremely disappointed with my dad. I felt I could always see his potential, but I had become bitter and hurt when this hoped for figure of my imagination was not to be found. I was aching for who I needed him to be and who he was not. Truth be told, I didn’t want to write his obituary because it meant accepting him for who he was. Truth be told, if I accepted him for who he was, then I would have to find a new source for my bitterness and disappointment with my own life.


I finished his obituary and I cried a lot. I cried because I had held so tightly to the hope that someday my dad would magically meet my expectations and then somehow I would understand life better, I would understand God better.  Wait what? This wasn’t about God; this was about my dad and how he had disappointed me.  No it definitely was not about God. God is perfect. God had nothing to do with this scenario.


Have you ever been afraid that there are certain words that if you say them out loud, God would smite you? Weeks later, as I sat in front of my therapist, she wanted to know how I was feeling.  The words that kept coming to mind were “I hate God”, but I could not say them out loud, because then that would mean I would believe them. Looking back, this was the catalyst of the first internal steps of my deconstruction

My therapist husband Jessee has told me many times that if a couple comes to counseling and is still fighting, there is still hope because there is still fight left in the relationship. It is when a couple comes in and is no longer willing to even argue, that there is a greater potential of the relationship ending.


Hating God lasted for a few months and my anger with God lasted quite a bit longer, but there was still fight left in me.



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