This was a very moving post made by Tylin Joel on the Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Recovery Group 3 on Facebook. I wanted to share this with you on the day I met an elder doing witnessing work who said he no longer speaks to a number of his friends anymore since they are disfellowshipped even though they are not bad people.

Tylin wrote:

On May 1st 2009 I pulled up to my father’s residence in Bakersfield California.
There were several police vehicles sprawled about and other official looking cars. Every light was flashing and it looked like a major crime scene, with yellow tape wrapped around every available surface.

I walked into the property. I was met immediately by a couple stout officers. “You need to step away, this area is off limits”

“This is my fathers house,” I said.

“Ok, go ahead.”

I walked towards the front door, but noticed there were officers in my way with a couple others in business attire standing by the breezeway door that led to the garage. They stopped talking and looked at me. I announced who I was and a very petite young woman put her hand up towards me and placed it on my chest and said, “Sir. You don’t want to come any further.”

I looked at her in the eyes and thought, who is this young woman speaking with such authority and conviction?

I told her, “yes, I do”

All the portly bodies moved aside and I entered the dimly lit garage.

I saw my father hanging from a very thin red and white nylon rope. My immediate thought was, how is that tiny rope holding him above the ground?

Then it hit me. My father, my rock, my hero, my everything, was gone.

No son should have to see his father hanging from a rafter. I understand what the very pretty coroner was trying to shield me from.

But I’m ok today because I needed to see it. It was the last straw that I needed to realize how evil the cult I trusted in was.

Despite my love for my father, my ignoring the mandate to shun him, it was too painful for him to lose everyone else. 6 months of being shunned by his mother and every friend he had made in the past 60 years. It was too much. And the love from his son while appreciated, couldn’t erase the hurt from the deep history that was excising him.

I miss my dad. He was a beautiful man. I wish he could know me now and how I’m fighting.