Leading through loss: Navigating grief in the workplace and beyond

October 25, 2024, is a day I will never forget. It was the day before my birthday, and my husband and I had just returned from a wonderful trip to Cabo with family. We were still basking in the afterglow of our vacation, and I was looking forward to attending a Hibachi Moo-Moo party with my sorority sisters the next day. But at 9:32 AM on October 25th, my world changed forever. I received a call from my niece, delivering the worst news I have ever heard—my daddy had passed away.

To understand the gravity of this moment, let me share a bit of background. On August 16, 2024, my brother reached out to tell my sister and me that our dad’s test results came back—he had liver cancer. That news hit us like a ton of bricks. In an instant, everything I knew about my life, my plans, and my priorities felt shattered.

But I prayed. I asked God to help me accept the things I could not change, to give me the strength to be there for my dad, my family, and myself.

As the months went by, my dad began treatment, and we found hope in his perseverance. He worked, went to church, and did everything he would normally do—despite all of us fussing in our own ways. We were planning for Thanksgiving. My husband and I were hosting, and Dad was excited to bring his favorite dishes: his delicious baked ham and famous pecan candy. Then, just a short few days later, we got the call no one was prepared for.

On that fateful morning, October 25^th, my dad was gone. I couldn’t process it. How does one move on from that shock, that hurt, that disbelief?

How do I show up to work, attend meetings, and lead my team when I can barely process this loss? How do I chair board meetings for the nonprofit I love, teach business classes at SNHU, and be present for my family? Some days, I wasn’t sure how to answer those questions.

But I’ve learned that grieving while leading doesn’t mean having all the answers or being “strong” all the time. It means doing what you can in the moment and being honest about where you are.

For me, that meant setting small, manageable goals for each day. I focused on what absolutely had to get done and leaned on my team for support when I needed it. It wasn’t easy—I’ve always prided myself on being reliable—but letting others step in reminded me that I didn’t have to do it all alone.

There were days when I showed up to work and could barely hold it together. Other days, I surprised myself with how capable I felt. Grief is unpredictable, and I gave myself permission to feel however I needed to feel on any given day.

Through this heartbreaking journey, my faith remained my constant source of strength. My relationship with God has always been the foundation of my life, and in these moments of loss, it became the anchor that kept me grounded. Verses like Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” reminded me that I didn’t have to carry this grief alone.

In my still moments, when I wanted to crumble, I found solace in talking to God. My prayers weren’t always neat or eloquent—sometimes they were just cries for help—but they were real, and they grounded me. The ministry community at my church also rallied around me, offering quiet but steady support through their prayers, check-ins, and presence.

Faith reminded me that even in loss, there is love, hope, and the promise of healing.

Grief is unpredictable. One moment, I’m okay; the next, I’m overwhelmed with emotion. And guess what? It’s okay not to be okay. It’s also okay to say that you’re not okay when someone asks.

We’re so programmed to say “I’m fine” because we don’t want to burden others with our problems. But you don’t have to hold it together all the time. Allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling. Acknowledge the moment.

Sometimes, just giving yourself permission to experience grief, even in small ways, is enough to help you heal. There are moments when I’ll sit at my desk, scroll through my phone, and see a picture of my dad that makes me cry—or I’ll remember one of his favorite sayings and smile. Each moment is different, and I’m learning to embrace them all.

Grief doesn’t have a timeline, and it certainly doesn’t stop when someone returns to work. I experienced this firsthand and was grateful for the people in my life who gave me the space and grace I needed to navigate those early days of loss.

As leaders, it’s important to recognize that grief isn’t something that goes away after a few weeks. Your team members who are grieving will have good days and bad days, and they’ll remember the kindness and understanding you showed them.

It’s the little things that make a difference: checking in, offering flexibility with deadlines, or just letting them know you’re there. For me, a simple acknowledgment from a coworker—"How are you holding up today?"—meant more than I can put into words.

And as leaders, let’s not forget those dates that hold extra weight for someone who is grieving—birthdays, anniversaries, or the holidays. Those moments can bring everything back to the surface, even when you think you’re doing okay. It’s a reminder to always lead with empathy, even when you can’t fully understand someone’s pain.

When you’re grieving, even the smallest acts of kindness can bring so much comfort. I’ll never forget the beautiful plant and card my team gave me. It wasn’t about the gift itself—it was about the thought, the effort, and the love behind it. Every time I look at that plant on my desk, I’m reminded that I’m not alone.

If you have a coworker who’s grieving, don’t be afraid to reach out. You don’t have to say the perfect thing—there’s no script for this. A simple “I’m sorry for your loss” or “I’m here if you need me” goes a long way.

And remember, everyone grieves differently. Some people want to talk about their loved one and share memories; others may need work to be their escape. Pay attention to their cues, and don’t assume one-size-fits-all support will work for everyone.

I returned to work fairly quickly after my dad passed. My coworkers were surprised and asked, “What are you doing here?” But I needed to keep moving. In those still moments, my mind would vividly reflect on my dad in the hospital bed. I didn’t want that to be my lasting memory of him.

Instead, I focused on his words: “Baby girl, I’m alright. I’ve lived a good life, and I want you to know that I love you. Keep going and enjoy life.”

My dad had a saying that might be too strong for this article, but I’ll share it anyway (smile): “F*#k the dumb s#!t.” He didn’t let life’s challenges get him down. That’s how I choose to live—by carrying my grief with love and strength, just as he would have wanted.

If you’re grieving, know that you’re not alone. Speak up about your needs, lean on those who care, and give yourself grace.

If you’re a leader, remember that compassion and understanding go a long way in helping your team members heal while maintaining productivity.

Together, we can create workplaces that honor both personal and professional resilience. Grief teaches us that love endures, even in loss. By supporting one another with empathy and compassion, we honor those we’ve lost and strengthen the bonds that carry us forward.

Rest peacefully, Daddy. Love, your baby girl.