Jacqueline Werket

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A Grief Postponed

A Nurse Practitioner's Journey Through Delayed Grief

A newly released captivating journey through the depths of delayed grief, resilience, and renewal.

There are many reasons why people suppress their grief. At the time of death, we might lack the skills to process overwhelming emotions; effective role models for grieving could be absent; or we may perceive ourself as the strong one in the family, thus adopting a stoic stance. Acute or chronic medical illnesses, struggles with substance use disorder, divorce, relocation, or immersion in a demanding work project are examples of distractions that can lead to delayed grief. Some of us carry a persistent feeling of incomplete mourning. If we avoid open conversations about our grief and fail to confront our emotions, they don’t just disappear; instead, they become a physical burden we carry into the future.

Our loss might resurface one, two, or even 20 years later. Delayed grief can be triggered by various events: another loss, a book, a movie, a friend’s sorrow, or something as subtle as the sunlight reflecting off a snowbank, evoking memories of the day our loved one died. The grief is profound and demands processing, yet our support system may have moved on. In the face of these intense emotions, what steps can we take? In the book, A Grief Postponed: A Nurse’s Journey Through Delayed Grief, author Jacqueline Werket sheds light on her unique and profound experience with delayed grief.

Quotes

“Repeatedly, I heard the same principle, if we avoid pain, we become embedded in it. It controls our lives. True strength is gained through vulnerability, not in being stoic.”
"Owning our unresolved grief is a sign of strength, not weakness—a mark of good health."
"As we process our grief we alight upon a gift; common thoughts, feelings and behaviors entwined. And just as the umbilical cord feeds the unborn child, these commonalities sustain us through mourning. Sharing our stories links us together. As we listen to others share their journeys, we hear aspects of our own. Through a process of expressing our feelings we awaken to a new life. Sad for all we had lost and gratitude for the capacity to begin again.”
“The only way to heal grief is to feel it.”
“When we block out the sad memories, we lose all of the happy memories as well.”
Read an Excerpt

Jared (my ex-husband, pseudonym) and I took a trip to Aspen Colorado after Ian died. One day our host suggested we ride the chairlift in town to get an aerial view of the Rockies. The day was beautiful, but when we made a U-turn at the top of the mountain a storm was brewing.

EXERPT

“Pumped by a strong wind, our chair began to swing back and forth. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Twisted black clouds whirled toward us. Thunder cracked, and streaks of lightning danced in the distance. My neck muscles stiffened. “We could get hit by lightning.”

“We’ll be all right,” Jared reassured me, but the approaching storm had wiped away his grin.

The chair inched along. Rain pelted us. Our chair rocked, giving me motion sickness. Now the jagged streaks of lightning surrounded us, and for a moment, I had an urge to pray. All at once, the pace of the chair quickened. Nearing the end of our ride, we prepared to make a dash for the shelter we’d identified at the far end of the park. As our toes touch ground again, Jared and I ran for cover. Connie (my sister) and the others followed behind.

As we approached the shelter, I saw a small child. My knees locked, and I was unable to walk further. Coming from behind, Connie hooked her arm through mine and pulled me up on to the gazebo. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little boy, a brown-haired freckled little boy approximately Ian’s age. He was laughing as Ian had once laughed; a deep, bouncing belly laugh, his soft blue eyes ablaze with delight. His parents stood by him, watching each step as he sailed back and forth, back and forth. Then the boy stopped, swirled his body around and around in a circle until he was too dizzy to stand up. Plop, he fell to the ground giggling and slowly rolled over. But as his mind eyes met mine, he quit laughing. My grief had become a vacuum pulling him into my hungry eyes. It frightened him and sent him searching for his mother’s arms, and as he clasped his tiny limbs around her, my whole body cried out to hold him, to hold my son again, to nestle him in my arms, to feel his heartbeat next to mine, to stroke his hair, to feel his flesh beneath my lips. To whisper “I love you” in his ear just one more time.”

Are you carrying grief you haven’t faced?

A free 5-question self-check from grief author Jacqueline Werket.

Delayed grief is grief that gets pushed aside — by responsibility, by survival, by the simple fact that life kept moving. It can show up years later as exhaustion, anxiety, anger, numbness, or the sense that something is missing you can’t quite name.

This 5-question self-check, drawn from Jacqueline’s clinical work and her own decade-long journey with delayed grief, will help you recognize whether grief is waiting for you — and offer a gentle next step.