GRIEF: They Don't Train You For This
GRIEF: The Workplace Problem No One Trains Leaders For.
Grief doesn’t stay home.
I wish it did. It would make leadership cleaner. Easier. More predictable.
But grief doesn’t care about work hours, PTO policies, or what’s on your calendar. It shows up anyway. In meetings. In missed details. In shorter patience. In silence where someone used to speak up.
And most leaders don’t recognize it when it walks into the room.
They call it attitude.
They call it disengagement.
They call it a performance issue.
But a lot of the time, it’s grief.
Two kinds of grief. Same impact.
I’ve lived grief in two very different ways.
One was sudden and devastating—the tragic, unexpected death of my mom. That kind of grief hits like an earthquake. Everything shifts. Your brain doesn’t work the same. Your sleep is off. Your focus comes and goes. You’re functioning, but you’re not operating the way you used to.
Six years later, it still shows up. In holidays. In birthdays. In painting—something my mom taught me. Sometimes I finish a piece and say, “You’d like this, Mom.” Sometimes I get stuck and ask her for help out loud. That’s just how grief lives with me now.
The other grief is quieter. And heavier in a different way.
The ongoing grief of raising a child with mental illness.
That grief doesn’t come with sympathy cards or casseroles. It’s not a moment—it’s a season. Sometimes it’s relentless. It’s the grief of what you hoped would be easier. What you prayed would change. What you’re still figuring out day by day.
One grief was an event.
The other has been a long stretch of road.
Both changed my capacity.
And that’s the part leaders need to understand.
What grief actually looks like at work
Grief doesn’t always look like tears.
A lot of the time, it looks like:
slower thinking
forgetting things you normally wouldn’t
getting irritated faster than usual
pulling back in meetings
needing control when life feels out of control
showing up, but not fully there
This isn’t laziness.
It’s not lack of care.
It’s not a character issue.
It’s a capacity issue.
And when leaders treat capacity issues like character flaws, something breaks. Trust erodes. People stop feeling safe. And performance doesn’t improve—it gets worse.
Leadership doesn’t mean fixing it
Let me be clear about something.
This is not about turning leaders into therapists.
It’s not about lowering standards.
And it’s definitely not about excusing bad behavior.
It is about being awake to what’s actually happening.
Sometimes leadership sounds like:
“I know you’re carrying a lot right now. Let’s talk about how we work while you’re in it.”
That’s it.
No speech. No drama. No fixing.
From there, it’s simple, grounded questions:
What’s hardest right now—focus, decisions, energy, or people?
What can we narrow or pause for a short window of time?
How do you want me to check in with you?
This isn’t hand-holding. It’s structure. It’s clarity. It’s care with boundaries.
The standard still matters.
The path just looks different for a season.
We need to stop pretending grief is a private problem
Here’s where I want to get really honest.
Grief does not run on a timeline.
Four days of bereavement leave doesn’t magically restore capacity.
An HR policy doesn’t make someone “better.”
And silence doesn’t mean someone is fine.
If we want healthier workplaces, we have to stop pretending grief is something people should deal with quietly, on their own, behind closed doors.
Sometimes the most powerful thing a leader can do is pause.
Pause the rush to label.
Pause the urge to correct.
Pause long enough to notice what’s actually going on.
When we allow grief to move through the workplace with care, compassion, and understanding, we model something deeper than productivity. We model humanity.
The expectation we set
This is the expectation I believe leaders should set:
We take care of ourselves.
And we practice real, intentional care for one another.
We don’t sweep grief under the rug.
We don’t bury it deeper and hope it goes away.
We name it.
We talk about it.
And we build strategies that allow people to heal and contribute.
That’s not weakness.
That’s leadership.
Bottom line
Grief is not a performance issue first.
It’s a capacity issue.
And capacity is a leadership responsibility.
If you only know how to lead people on their best days, you don’t yet know how to lead.
A pause for you
Before you move on to the next thing today, I want to invite you to pause.
Look at your team.
Look at yourself.
Ask a better question.
Create a little more space.
And if this resonated, I talk more about this in this week’s episode of the Leadership Sandbox. It’s personal. It’s honest. And it’s a conversation we don’t have often enough.
Grief doesn’t stay home.
And leadership shows up in how we respond when it doesn’t.
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