Grief doesn’t always show up in the ways we expect.
And it’s not always about death.
Sometimes, it’s the dream that didn’t materialize.
The version of your role that no longer exists.
The team you once had that felt aligned, energized, yours.
The leader you thought you’d become by now.
I’m noticing it in my clients— so it’s something I’ve chosen to study more deeply.
I’m currently completing my Grief Educator Certification with David Kessler, one of the world’s foremost grief experts. What’s been striking in this journey is how grief shows up in places we often overlook—particularly in the workplace. It hides in performance dips, team tension, and unspoken resistance to change. It surfaces not only after death or crisis but in transitions, identity shifts, leadership changes, and unrealized futures.
This work has deepened my understanding of how grief moves through systems—how it lingers when we don’t end well, and how healing begins when we’re willing to name what’s been lost. Bringing a grief-informed lens to my coaching and consulting work has changed the way I show up for my clients. It’s about legitimizing the human experience in spaces.
I’m hearing this more often—quietly named, sometimes unspoken altogether. There’s a grief thread running through many leadership conversations right now. Sometimes it’s in the form of exhaustion, detachment, or restlessness. Sometimes it’s unmistakable sadness. And increasingly, it’s something even subtler: anticipatory grief.
This is the grief we feel before the loss happens. It’s the unease that comes when we sense change on the horizon—when a restructure is looming, when the culture is shifting, when our own inner knowing tells us, “This chapter is closing.” We may not even know what’s next. We just feel the weight of what’s about to go.
And as leaders, we often carry this grief alone.
The Pressure to Stay “Strong”
There’s an unspoken belief in many organizations and society that leadership is about steadiness. About keeping your head up, your emotions in check, and your team moving forward—even when things feel messy or uncertain.
But what happens when you’re the one grieving?
When your role is changing in ways you didn’t choose?
When you’ve outgrown the expectations others have of you—but haven’t yet grown into what’s next?
When your team is hurting, and you don’t have answers? Are you even aware?
Many of the leaders I work with are navigating big transitions—some personal, some organizational, and many both. They’re expected to hold space for others while managing their own inner shifts, often with very little support. And what I want to say to them (and maybe to you, too) is this:
Grief is not a problem to solve.
It’s not a distraction from your work.
It’s part of the work.
It needs to be named.
When We Don’t End Well, Grief Lingers
One of the most overlooked sources of grief in leadership is the cost of unfinished endings. When we don’t allow things to close with clarity, care, or acknowledgment, the residue doesn’t just disappear—it sticks.
We see this when:
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- A beloved initiative is shut down without time to reflect or honor the effort.
- A restructure happens quickly, leaving people disoriented and disconnected.
- A leader is quietly exited without appreciation or transparency.
- A team dynamic shifts, but no one talks about what’s changed.
In the rush to “move forward,” we often bypass the emotional work of ending well. But when we skip that step, grief doesn’t go away—it just burrows in. It shows up as resistance, cynicism, disengagement, or burnout. And we don’t always connect the dots back to the ending that never got the attention it deserved.
Ending well doesn’t mean everything was perfect. It means something was seen, acknowledged, and brought to a close with integrity. When we do that, we create the conditions for clean grief—grief that can move through, instead of staying stuck.
Grief Is Evidence You Care
When something mattered to us—a role, a relationship, a vision, a version of our leadership—it leaves a mark. And when it changes or ends, we feel that loss. That’s not failure. That’s evidence of care.
Grief means you invested.
It means you were connected.
It means you gave a damn.
So what if, instead of trying to “push through,” we acknowledged that grief is a natural part of leadership? What if we made more room for leaders to feel it, name it, and integrate it—rather than pretend it isn’t there?
Make Room for Grief at Work & Hold Space
Let’s be clear: This IS about recognizing the human experience of leadership.
We grieve:
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- The teammate who left unexpectedly.
- The strategy that failed after months of effort.
- The shift in dynamics when a new leader enters.
- The feeling that “this used to be different.”
And we often don’t call it grief—because we don’t have the language, or we don’t believe we’re allowed.
But what I’ve seen in practice is this: when we give grief a name, even quietly, it softens. It stops taking up so much space in the shadows. And it makes room for the next thing to take shape.
If you’re leading through change—your own or others’—here are a few gentle reminders:
- There may be grief in the room.Even if no one names it. Look for the signs: withdrawal, resistance, unexpected emotion, nostalgia.
- Don’t rush past it.We often want to jump to solutions: “Let’s look ahead!” “Let’s reframe!” But grief asks for a moment of pause before the pivot.
- Model what it means to name loss.It can be as simple as: “This is hard. I know some of us are still adjusting to what’s changed.” You don’t have to have the perfect words—you just need to be real.
- Give yourself permission, too.Leadership doesn’t mean you forfeit your own emotional reality. You’re allowed to be in transition. You’re allowed to feel the impact.
- Close things consciously.Whether it’s a project, a team season, or a relationship—mark the ending. Share what mattered. Say what’s shifting. It makes a difference.
A New Kind of Strength
Leadership is about creating space for what’s true—so that healing, recalibration, and trust can emerge.
We don’t talk about grief in leadership enough. But it’s there.
And maybe, naming it is the first step toward leading in a way that’s more human, more sustainable, and ultimately, more powerful.
If you’re navigating this, know you’re not alone. And if you’re leading others who might be grieving—especially in this season of uncertainty and change—maybe start by simply asking:
What are we letting go of right now? And how might we honor that… before we rush to what’s next?
If this resonates—if you’re navigating grief in your leadership, sensing an ending that hasn’t quite landed, or holding space for a team that’s quietly struggling—I’d love to connect.
You don’t have to carry it alone. Coaching can offer a reflective space to process, reorient, and move forward with clarity.
Feel free to reach out if you’d like to talk, explore coaching, or simply share what this brought up for you.
