Why I Wrote "It's Been a While: Grief Forgotten"

Over the past few years, I have found myself working alongside grief in many different forms. Some of those experiences have taken place in the counselling room, while others have come through conversations with friends and loved ones who have trusted me with their stories. Through these conversations, often filled with tears, laughter, silence, memories, regrets, and moments of unexpected joy, I have learned far more about grief than any textbook could ever teach.

The poem It's Been a While: Grief Forgotten was born from those conversations.

One theme appeared again and again. It wasn't simply the pain of losing someone. It was the experience of grieving in a world that often expects grief to follow a timetable.

In the days and weeks after a death, support is usually plentiful. Cards arrive, flowers are delivered, meals are prepared, and people regularly ask how you are coping. The loss is visible and acknowledged. Yet as the months pass, something begins to change. Life carries on for those around us. Conversations move on. The person's name is mentioned less often. The messages become less frequent.

This is not because people are uncaring. In my experience, most people genuinely want to help. Many simply do not know what to say. Others worry that mentioning the person who died will upset the bereaved. Some assume that enough time has passed and that things must be getting easier.

What I have learned from my own lived experience and from those living with loss is that grief rarely works in such a neat or predictable way.

For many people, there comes a point when they feel as though their grief has become invisible. They hear well-meaning comments such as, "It's been a while now," "You need to move on," or "They wouldn't want you to be sad." Although these words are often spoken with kindness, they can leave the grieving person feeling profoundly alone. Not because they expect others to carry their grief, but because the significance of the loss has not diminished simply because time has passed.

One of the most humbling aspects of grief work is witnessing the many contradictions that people hold. Someone may feel grateful that a loved one's suffering has ended while simultaneously wishing for one more day with them. They may laugh while sharing a treasured memory and cry moments later because they miss them so deeply. They may accept the reality of the death whilst never fully accepting that it happened at all.

These apparent contradictions are not signs that someone is grieving incorrectly. They are often signs of love.

As I listened to people speak about their losses, I became increasingly aware that grief is not something we "get over." Instead, we learn how to carry it. We slowly build a life around the absence. We adapt to a world that looks the same on the outside but feels fundamentally different on the inside.

The poem was inspired by these experiences and by the remarkable people who have allowed me to walk alongside them for part of their journey. It was inspired by the daughter who still reaches for the phone to call their mother. The husband who misses hearing his wife's voice at the end of the day. The granddaughter who worries she is forgetting small details about her Grandmother's life. The friend who smiles while telling a story and then suddenly remembers that there will be no new stories to tell.

Again and again, I have been reminded that grief is not measured by time. It is measured by connection. The depth of our grief often reflects the depth of our love.

Perhaps that is why grief can feel so confusing. The world sees the passing of time, while the bereaved person continues to carry the relationship. A year may have passed. Five years may have passed. Yet love does not operate according to a calendar.

If there is one message I hope readers take from both the poem and the conversations that inspired it, it is this: there is no deadline for missing someone. There is no correct timeline for grief, and there is no point at which love suddenly expires.

For many people, grief is not a sign that they are unable to move forward. It is evidence that the relationship mattered.

And sometimes, when someone says, "It's been a while," what they really need is not a reminder of how much time has passed, but an acknowledgement of how much that person is still loved and missed.

It’s Been a While - Grief forgotten

"It's been a while."

I know it's sad.

I'm sorry for your loss.

My deepest sympathies.

My condolences to your family.

Losing a loved one is a hard bridge to cross.

Time is a healer,

So you'll get through.

I'm not sure people really know what to say or do.

People mean well,

But the words sound the same.

It's kind of hard to hear

When your heart is in pain.

To lose a loved one is such a hard thing,

But it's time to cheer up, it's almost spring.

Summer will be here soon.

So, what's been going on?

Wait, you're not still thinking about the one who's gone?

I almost forgot, it's been so long.

So long, you say?

I'm sure that's true for you,

But for me, I still have moments when I don't know what to do.

There's no point explaining. You won't understand,

until the one you love is ripped from your hand.

Grief doesn't end once it starts.

It starts with an end—

and a broken heart is not easy to mend.

I can't forget,

And time doesn't make sense.

Sometimes it feels like time is playing a joke at my expense.

"It's been a while," you say?

That doesn't feel true.

To me, it feels like yesterday,

As it all happened out of the blue.

I wasn't prepared for loss.

You simply can't be.

Grief can't be forgotten.

Look closely and you will see.

It's hidden in the quiet moments,

When the world expects more from me.

The smile may still be present,

But the sadness lives with me.

The vacant stares, the empty laughs,

It's not the usual me.

“It’s been a while, crocodile.

Tears? Surely not.

I thought you'd be over it by now.

Try your best to push through somehow.”

“We all die someday.

Maybe it was their time to go,” some might say.

No, not really. I needed them at least another day.

Give me a month, or a couple of years,

To fulfil life’s purpose and overcome any fears.

You say. "It's time to move on,

aim for acceptance,

don't be upset,"

But I expected a lifetime together,

And I'm not finished loving them yet.

By Sabrina Williams