When we think about leadership transitions—new roles, reorganizations, retirements, or even layoffs—our first instinct is often to focus on strategy and structure. Who’s leading what? What’s the plan? How do we communicate the change?
But underneath every org chart update sits something deeply human: grief.
We rarely name it that way, yet every transition involves a loss. The loss of a familiar rhythm. Of a trusted colleague. Of a way of working that, even if imperfect, was known.
Why I’m Writing About This Again
In the Leadership, Transitions & Grief series we’re hosting this fall, one theme keeps echoing louder than ever before: the hardest part isn’t the change itself—it’s what we have to let go of along the way.
And lately, there’s been a lot to let go of.
Across industries, we’re seeing waves of restructuring, layoffs, retirements, and re-entries into hybrid workplaces that still don’t feel settled. Entire leadership teams are changing hands. The healthcare and public sectors are stretched to breaking points. Even those who’ve “landed” in new roles are quietly asking themselves, “Why doesn’t this feel like a win?”
There’s a collective weariness in the air—what some describe as anticipatory grief. Leaders know more changes are coming. They’re trying to hold their people, deliver results, and stay human in systems that keep shifting under their feet.
In our sessions, I’ve heard voices crack as people describe losing the colleagues who made the work meaningful. Others share the guilt of being the ones who stayed after the cuts. Some are mourning the way their organization used to feel—a culture that once had rhythm, humour, and belonging, now replaced with silence and exhaustion.
And it’s not just “out there.” It’s here, in the room, in the Zoom squares. You can feel it in the pause before someone answers, in the shaky laughter after a difficult story.
That’s why I keep coming back to this topic.
Because grief isn’t a side effect of change—it is the change.
And unless we name it, honour it, and move through it with intention, it festers as disengagement, distrust, or burnout.
So I write about it again because we’re living it—every one of us.
Because naming it gives us a language for healing.
Because gratitude and growth don’t come after grief—they grow through it.
Endings: Letting Go of What Was
William Bridges reminds us that change is situational, but transition is psychological. Every new beginning starts with an ending.
In his model, the first zone of transition is Endings—the space where we must release old identities, roles, or ways of being. It’s the part most leaders rush past, because it’s messy. People are emotional. Productivity dips. The energy feels uncertain.
But grief lives here.
It’s not weakness—it’s a sign that something mattered.
This is where gratitude becomes a bridge.
By acknowledging what was good, what worked, and what we’re thankful for, we give endings the dignity they deserve.
Try this:
“What from this chapter am I grateful for—and what am I ready to release?”
That’s how we begin to metabolize loss instead of carrying it forward as resentment or exhaustion.
The Neutral Zone: Sitting in the In-Between
Then comes what Bridges calls the Neutral Zone—a liminal space where the old is gone, but the new isn’t yet clear.
It’s disorienting. Teams are rebuilding trust. Leaders are redefining roles. Energy fluctuates between hope and fatigue.
This is also the zone where growth starts quietly taking root.
In my coaching practice, I often see clients wanting to “get through” this period as quickly as possible. But this middle zone is fertile ground—it’s where reflection, creativity, and reconnection emerge… if we allow it. We need to talk about it.
New Beginnings: Stepping into What’s Next
Eventually, we cross into the New Beginning zone—the light returns.
The team has adjusted. Roles are clearer. There’s new energy, and perhaps even excitement. But if we skipped over grief and gratitude earlier, the foundation here will be fragile.
True growth comes from integrating what we’ve learned through both the loss and the pause.
It’s in the reflection, the tending, the noticing of how far we’ve come.
Leadership transitions done well aren’t about speed—they’re about wholeness.
They honour what was, nurture what is, and make space for what’s emerging.
This Nurturing November
Maybe this month, instead of only making a gratitude list, we could make a Grief & Gratitude Inventory.
What are you releasing?
What are you thankful for?
What might be quietly growing beneath the surface?
When we lead from this place, we move beyond managing change—we become stewards of meaning.
Because every ending deserves gratitude.
Every neutral zone deserves patience.
And every new beginning deserves to be entered with grace and a clear ground.
Reflection prompts for you and your team:
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- What am I, are we, grieving in this current transition—personally or organizationally?
- What am I, are we, grateful for that still sustains me/us?
- What growth might be waiting on the other side of this neutral zone?
Closing thought:
“Transitions are the crucibles of leadership. How we move through them shapes not just what we do next, but who we become.”
If this theme resonates, you might enjoy exploring previous reflections on leadership, loss, and renewal in the Den archives.
Why Ending Well Matters More Than We Think
Leading With What Lights You Up
Looking for support through a current leadership transition? Let’s talk.
