A Dad’S Journey Through Grief: A Chronology in Poetry, Prose, and Essays

By David O. Nesnow

If you have experienced the tragedy of the
death of your child,

this book is an invitation for you to
walk with me on this path.

While everyone grieves differently,
sharing this road with me may help you
realize the grief you are experiencing is
normal, and validate any unfamiliar
feelings you may encounter in your
grief. It is my hope that you will also
be able to reinvest in life.

If you have concern for one who is grieving
the loss of a child,

this book may give insight into the
grief. Since the loss of a child is so very
different from other deaths, this book
may also give you understanding and
the tools to offer comfort.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514434574

David O. Nesnow

David O. Nesnow was born and grew up in the borough of Queens, New York City, spending summers with family at Ridge, Long Island, New York. Following his military service and college, he formed a software consulting company and retired in 2008. He also enjoyed involvement in church music and served as a minister of music for over twenty-five years. He was interested in poetry as a young child and occasionally composed music and wrote poetry for family and friends. Following the death of his daughter, writing became a means of working through his grief and reconfirming his faith and spirituality. He and his wife, Jean, enjoy traveling and reside in North Carolina.

Book preview

A Dad's Journey Through Grief

A Chronology in Poetry, Prose, and Essays

David O. Nesnow

Copyright © 2016 by David O. Nesnow.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015920531

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-3459-8

                Softcover       978-1-5144-3458-1

                eBook            978-1-5144-3457-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 12/30/2015

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CONTENTS

Introduction

The Journey

Once, Twice, Thrice

Deborah

The Accident

We Have Two Children

The Love That We've Shared

How Long Has It Been?

How Long Will It Be?

Please Meet Craig and Camille

I Cry

A Poem of Grief

Why?

The Dungeon Of Grief

My Little Girl

Talk To Me About Deborah

The Holocaust of Grief

The Times That I Cry

If I Had Never Been Born

For Friendships Grieved

A Crippling Effect The Death of a Child

Forgive My Question, Lord

A Letter to My Daughter

Where Has the Music Gone?

Tempest of Grief

And then the tears came....

Turn Back the Clock

If I Could

Turn Back the Pages of Time

What is a Friend

Eternity: What is it?

Eternity

Another Chance

Father's Day

Lonely Grief

I Have Been To Hell

What Is Life?

After Death Communication

Where Has Friendship Gone?

Jairus' Daughter and Mine

Jairus' Daughter and Mine -- The Poem

Justice

Torment

The Flood

What Has Happened To The Church?

Caring

Letter to the Clergy

Prayer of a Bereaved Parent

I Have Lost a Precious Jewel

Beauty Blurred

Depression, A Way of Life

Depression

Bound

Deep Depression

The Butterfly

Someday, On the Other Side

Inner Turmoil

To Live Is To Die

Employment and the Bereaved Parent

Father's Day

A Stranger in Two Worlds

A Stranger in Two Worlds

But Lord, I'm Not Tired, Yet

What's in a Name?

Where Am I?

A Spark of Life

Dare To Be A Friend

Clichés

Not In Words

My Daughter's Name

Our Silver Wedding Anniversary

The Other World

Here and There

The Holidays

Christmas

Agony

The Prison Built Not Of Stone

The Sting That Death Left Behind

Mind, Heart, Soul and Strength

We Used To Sing, My Daughter and I

Progress

A Father's Secret Grief

It's Not Fair

A Prayer of Grief

Time

Progression of Grief

Vanished Dreams

How, Why and What?

The Holiday Dread

Why Do I Hurt So?

The Sunny Side of Friendship

A Thought Concerning God's Responsibilities

Christmas Again

Emotions

Walk Gently

A Bereaved Father's Path to Insanity

Sharing Grief

The First Laugh

A Holiday Message

No Art Without Pain

It Ain't Fittin'!

Burdens

There is a Dream

IF

A Memorable Father's Day Gift

When Dreams Are Shattered

The Playhouse

Remember Laughter

Remember Laughter

The Song Has Died That the Music Might Survive

The Essence of Spring

The Light in The Window

Out of the Ashes, a Gift

The Single Rose

A Melancholic Anniversary

The Butterfly

An Empathetic Prayer

Thoughts of a New Day

The Holidays

A Holiday Burden

The New Year

This Mountain

The Journey's End.......?

The Times

The Yearly Cycle of Grief

Mother's Day

Remembrance

Acknowledgements

Introduction

I did not plan to write this book. In fact, I did not plan for this journey. It has been a most difficult journey to take. It was almost akin to stumbling aimlessly; a journey I never would have dreamed that I would be forced to take, and one I would never wish upon anyone.

This compilation of prose, poetry and essays written over a period of approximately fourteen or fifteen years reflects my attempt to fight, claw, and crawl through the devastation of the death of my child.

In May, 1985, my wife's and my life was changed forever when our daughter, Deborah Jean, died as a result of an automobile accident. She was twenty-one years of age, and was about to take control of her life. The accident occurred while she was driving home from a church Sunday School party. We were told by her friends who had attended the party that moments before she left, the group had gathered in a circle to pray.

That Sunday, following the morning worship service, my wife, our daughter, our son, and I had stopped for dinner at a restaurant. After we were seated, a young man of my daughter's age from her Sunday School class approached our table and asked if she would like to join the group from the class. (We had not noticed the group across the restaurant from our table.) Deborah sought our permission and excused herself to join her peers. Later, during the trip home, she expressed delight that when she approached the table she was asked to join, all the young men stood until she was seated. She decided later that afternoon that she would return to the church that evening for the scheduled Sunday School party. Leaving home, after letting us know of her scheduled time of return, the last words we heard her say was a cheerful, See yuh.

I never became suicidal, but in the beginning of my grief, after the initial shock, the emotional pain was so severe that, for a time I even wished that I had not survived the bout with spinal meningitis when I was five years of age. But then, could I actually wish this kind of pain on my parents? I was convinced that I would not live beyond a

few months. Grief is very self-centered, and I wanted to die. I felt that I could almost will myself to die. I went so far as to purchase a rather large life insurance policy in order to leave my wife and son in a more comfortable financial situation. But I did live.

My wife, Jean, and I grieved differently. She sought out people with whom she could speak of her loss and her feelings, while I, in effect, crawled within myself. She had been a stay at home mom, and I was the traditional bread winner, having to face people during the day. When I got home in the evening, I wanted to be left alone. (Not a good recipe for a marriage to survive.) I might add that statistics reveal that well over ninety percent of marriages end in separation, if not divorce, following the death of a child. When Jean tried to get me to talk with her, I took it as criticism. She finally wrote a letter and handed it to me one evening when I returned home from work. The letter expressed her desire to share our grief. The final result was that we would each give a little to the needs of the other as we fought to survive.

During that first year following Deborah's death, Jean had talked with a number of people and found others who had a child to die. The result was that we, along with another grieving couple, sought to charter a local chapter of The Compassionate Friends, an international support organization for bereaved parents. I was reluctant at first because I didn't understand how a group of this nature could help me. I got involved in order to support Jean in her endeavor. My reluctance was a misjudgment on my part.

One cannot push someone else up a mountain without going up themselves. The first formal chapter meeting was held June, 1986, following the first anniversary of Deborah's death. Jean and I served as chapter leaders for thirteen years. At this writing, thirty years later, the chapter is still active.

I had, throughout our marriage, written poems and songs to my wife. That was how I expressed my deepest feelings. In my grief, writing was my way of survival.

These writings depict the various stages of grief, from shock, through disbelief, through anger, through depression, and eventually acceptance. These stages will not occur in neat order. One can never get over the death of a child. However, at some point, and certainly not very early in the grieving process, one can either choose to continue to flounder in grief or to reinvest in life. Jean and I chose the latter.

Come,

            walk with me

                  on my journey

                        through grief .......,

The Journey

Come, walk with me

On my journey through grief,

If you really care;

It's not a pleasant journey, to be sure,

But you're welcome to walk with me,

If but a portion of this heavy burden, you would help to bear.

Beware, there will be times that you won't understand me,

Or the things that I say, or even do,

But you can show me that you're mindful of my pain,

By being with me to share a tear or two.

There will often be days and nights, you will see

Why I must make this very clear,

That you'll wish you were not with me

On my long, and arduous pilgrimage of fear,

And wishing to take your leave from me,

You may depart at any time you become afraid, or a bit unfurled,

But I...., I must continue on this journey

If I am to remain in this tragic, frightful world;

And though, in time, the path may grow less rocky, and I become more free,

This journey, for me, in this life, shall