Grief is, Well, Grief

In honor of my sister Tamorra and Peggy Davis

I've debated whether to write this, but when a thought lingers—especially one that insists on being voiced—I believe it’s for a reason. Someone may need to hear it.

October 17th will forever be etched in my memory. Ten years ago, my younger sister Tamorra passed away. I can still recall every emotion from that day as if it just happened: the helplessness, the anger, the sorrow, and the deep sense of loss. Tamorra’s passing came at a pivotal time in my life. I was a graduate student at Old Dominion University, only two weeks from graduation and a week away from my qualifying exams. I felt torn between the demands of school and being the "big sister" I strived to be.

I wasn’t there when she took her last breath. That thought has haunted me for years. I was so focused on setting an example, learning lessons to share with my siblings, that I overlooked what truly mattered: being present. In hindsight, stepping away would have been healthier, but I pushed on. I pushed because I needed the distraction. I pushed because I was holding myself together with fragile threads. I pushed because, had I stopped, I feared what would unravel.

I share this now because, in my work, I emphasize that life happens—especially when we least expect it. We spend more time at work than anywhere else, and yet we often compartmentalize our personal struggles. I tell my students that while resilience is crucial, so is acknowledging our humanity, setting boundaries, and asking for support. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it can offer new perspectives.

For me, leading with authenticity and transparency is key. I shared with my team that my demeanor might be different this week and explained why—not just for their understanding but as a commitment to being accountable. Little did I know, the day before Tamorra’s death-anniversary, I’d receive more heartbreaking news. Peggy Davis, my former college athletic director and a guiding figure in my life, had passed away too. Grief is unpredictable. It comes in waves, without warning.

So, my message is this: let’s prioritize humanity, especially in the workplace. We all carry stories that shape who we are. For those who are grieving—whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a dream, or an opportunity—give voice to your pain. You may find something new and beautiful amidst the heartache.