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Editor’s note: This is the prologue of the book “My Dear Jen,” written by Rosamond Gillespie Burns and George H. Burns III. This is the second of a continuing series, which takes readers back to the struggles of World War I.

Reluctantly, I followed my mother Jennie, my older brother Don and sister Jane through the door into the funeral home.

I could barely put one foot in front of the other, as if I was in one of those dreams when as hard as you try, you can’t move your legs to walk or run. When I hesitated, Mom took me by the hand and led me into the room where relatives had gathered. Cousins, aunts, uncles and friends turned their sad faces to witness our reaction in seeing a father and husband who had been among the missing for ten years.

The sweet fragrance of flowers combining with the chill in the room made me feel dizzy. I felt nervous and scared as we approached the white satin lined casket. I looked with wonder upon my father’s lifeless body, so pale and still. I had seen pictures of him and now he looked handsome even in death. I only had one photo of him holding me when I was about eighteen months old that mom kept for me. It was my only connection with him. I had always tried to imagine his warm arms around me.

He was only 52 and had died during an operation for a perforated ulcer. Mom never knew where he was. Upon Don’s death his brother Jack, who was sworn to secrecy, contacted mom. My dream of knowing and loving him was also dead. I was 3 years old when he left and too young to remember him. Now at 12, I felt I was looking at a stranger. My mother wanted me to kiss his cheek, but, I couldn’t bring myself to be that close. I touched his folded hands, cold and stiff, not warm and comforting as I had dreamed of as a little girl.

I had missed his hugs, sitting in his lap while he read me a story, tucking me in with a good-night kiss and just being there to bring stability to our lives. My brother, and sister, had his warmth and care during their formative years as they were 10 and 13 when he left. They had memories of him, but I, unfortunately, did not.

After a brief service we went up to the casket to say our final goodbyes. My mother sobbed as she looked upon the man she had always loved. Now, after years of being apart, this was their final separation.

There were numerous separations since their marriage in 1911, some brought on by war, some by the economic necessities of the times, and yet others brought on by the stubbornness of two passionate people trying to survive in hard times. Here now lay a man who survived World War I without a scratch, but who was dead many years before his time.

The lid was closed and I had seen my father for the first and last time. We followed the hearse a few miles to the east from Harry Serene’s funeral parlor in Brooklyn, New York, to Pinelawn National Cemetery. Here, thousands of our country’s brave soldiers are interred, this day to include Second Lieutenant Donald Kennedy Gillespie who fought with distinction in France during World War I in Company H, 2nd Battalion of the famous, 165th U.S. Infantry Regiment,” of the 42nd “Rainbow” Division. Otherwise known as the storied “Fighting 69th” of New York.

Don and Jen’s Grave at the Pinelawn National Cemetery in Long Island. At the time of her death she was buried above Don in the same grave.

As we drove through the high wrought iron gate, the rows of white crosses spread over the landscape like a flood; a sad reminder of the men who had made selfless sacrifices for their country, and the thousands that would soon follow in the ongoing World War II. The car stopped and we were led to an open grave. I shuttered as I looked down into the dark hole in the earth that would hold my father’s body. I can still hear my mother’s screams as the twenty-one gun military salute shattered the air with loud crackling thunder as the casket was lowered into the dark, cold earth. That was 1943.

Now my mother Jen would continue to support three children alone, as usual, but now the hope of having Don home again was over; the love of her life gone forever.