A Letter to the Grieving

As June unfolded, I found myself amidst a tapestry of significant milestones, holidays, activities, and celebrations. It's Pride Month, a time to celebrate diversity and inclusion. It’s summer soccer and championship little league games. It’s the wrap-up of the school year in; complete with two moving up days. It’s a trip to Nashville to celebrate high achievements and half-days to witness award ceremonies. It’s birthdays, Juneteenth, and Father’s Day. ?

This was the June I did it. I made it through the Father’s Day card aisle at Target without breaking down, without sniffles, without needing to go back another day because I couldn’t read the words through the tears. For 16 years, I’ve grieved the loss of my dad and for six of those years I got to skip the aisle because I didn’t have a father here on earth to buy a card for. For the last 10 I have walked the aisle experiencing every stage of grief and putting it aside to help my kids pick cards for their dad; something for my husband whose greatest joy is to be their dad. I wasn’t sure if I felt accomplished or that I just had my emotions in check. You see, when you know grief, you also worry about the absence of it. You wonder, why, in that moment, you aren’t sad or their’s no tears or you’re just feeling okay.

From loss comes grief, for what could be, what should have been, what you never saw coming. The loss of a passion or a profession, an opportunity or achievement, a pet or a parent. Grief is a deeply personal journey. It doesn't adhere to a calendar or timeline. It can hit you in waves, it can leave you alone, it can show up in a new way. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross identified five stages of grief, which provide a framework for understanding our experiences: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. I’ve had them all more than once and for more than one experience. I’ve learned that grief doesn’t just disappear; it evolves and integrates into our lives. It can be triggered by a song, a scent, a special event, or just a simple moment of stillness.

Fast forward to June 16, a beautiful Sunday afternoon, I found myself in the car with no particular song on the radio thinking through the day. Without a moments notice, I was crying so hard I had to pull over. And there it was. The realization that what I wasn’t doing that day was see my dad. I didn’t call my mom, I didn’t mention it to my husband, I just sat with it. I didn’t want to burden anyone else with my bad day; with my baggage, with my grief. It’s something I have grown accustomed to: not asking for help. I’m quick to offer it, but I rarely ask for it.

A Conversation about EQ from Inside Out 2

While watching Pixar’s Inside-Out 2 with the kids this past week I caught a moment where Anxiety (the emotion in control) told Joy (another emotion) that Riley (their little girl) should just go ahead and bottle up all her emotions. Which, we find out later is not the answer. A key lesson in a children’s story. Yet here we sit as adults: rarely asking for help, scrutinized for being too emotional, or expecting that we show up pristine and polished all the time. We can’t expect to be a different person at home than at work, and I realized over the years as I went from single contributor to leader to owner and back again that the difference between building trust and being trusted is that you show up: day-in and day-out, as you are. Your true, authentic, emotional self.

Empathy in the workplace isn't just a nice-to-have; it's essential. As professionals, we often focus on improving IQ—our technical skills and knowledge. I say that our EQ, or Emotional Intelligence is what I want to see from my teams, my colleagues, my job candidates. EQ involves understanding and managing our own emotions, as well as recognizing and acknowledging the emotions of others. It’s about being human first. Letting our humanity guide our professional interactions. I believe that IQ is taught but EQ is earned. People often say that IQ is something you’re born with, while EQ can be developed. We can learn to be more empathetic, to be better listeners, and to support one another through difficult times. But EQ is earned. Demonstrating what it means to actually hear people when they are talking, to really see them and have the wherewith-all to ask the tough questions. To care enough to put the work aside and help carry the load your colleagues are carrying.

There’s a saying that my daughter has on a notebook in her room that goes something like “be kind, because you never know what other people are going through,” and every-time I see it I use it as a good reminder that you never know what hard is for others and you can’t compare it to your own.

I didn’t plan my June article this way nor was this the topic; but here we are. I don’t have all the answers, I just know that grief is a part of life, and as a constant learner I am trying to understand what it is teaching me. I believe that empathy is important. I believe that my emotions are what make me; me. I believe that we need a more compassionate world, one where everyone feels seen, heard, and supported. And I believe that if you what to see change, you have to be brave enough to share your story.

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