the human side of workplace grief: a journey through loss and leadership
One year ago today, my friend Susan died.
Susan was diagnosed with cancer and only months later was told it was terminal. She was 42. She was vibrant, fun, and deserved so much more time. Susan made me realize what is important in life. She taught me how to live.
I have experienced a fair share of death in my lifetime, but Susan's death has really been the first time that I have actually allowed myself to grieve in a healthy way. In reflecting over the past few days, I've come to understand what made this experience different.
A Shifting Cultural Context
The most significant change I've observed is that grief is everywhere. It has become much more socially acceptable. People like Anderson Cooper have broken down barriers that long made grief a taboo topic with his brilliant podcast All There Is. Stephen Colbert’s interview with Andrew Garfield, in which he speaks about his mother's death, has been seen by millions (video here). That conversation even led to a visit to Sesame Street, where Andrew and Elmo talked about grief (video here). Grief is now just a part of our common vernacular.
Increasingly, people understand that when someone dies, it's normal to experience a wide range of emotions. We're learning that these feelings don't have to follow a linear path. We expect sadness, and finally, we're learning to accept it.
In North America, we are finally catching up to what other cultures have long understood. Japanese Buddhist traditions, for example, involve an extended mourning process that includes a wake, multiple memorial services, and a 49-day period of mourning before the final rites are completed. In Mexico, Día de los Muertos transforms mourning into a shared experience that honours life and offers emotional healing through community participation.
The contrast is stark. When my best friend Emma died in 2007, grief was not something people discussed openly. Others seemed to avoid even mentioning Emma's name, leaving me feeling isolated. When Susan died last year, I encountered a different reality. When I spoke about her, I was met with compassion rather than pity and discomfort. The ability to be vulnerable has become, for many, more acceptable.
The Evolution of Workplace Support
This cultural shift has begun to influence workplaces, albeit slowly. While many organizations still maintain outdated bereavement policies, the people implementing these policies are increasingly leading with more empathy and humanity.
Throughout my experiences with loss, it has consistently been my manager who made the crucial difference. I've been remarkably fortunate to have been in the right place, at the right time, with leaders who had the skills and compassion to support me, despite limited formal policies.
When Emma died in an accident while I was visiting her in the UK, there was no playbook. I'm not even certain how the communication flowed between my boss Ian and I at the time. What I do know is that I never worried about work. I was given the time I needed, without concern about leave balances or return dates. There was an implicit understanding that I had unconditional support.
A year after Emma's death, I left my supportive environment at Canadian Public Health Association (CPHA) for a government position. This transition coincided with my withdrawal inward, using work as a coping mechanism for my mental illness. Years would pass before I felt safe enough to disclose my post-traumatic stress diagnosis in the workplace again.
My next foray with grief was between 2013 and 2014, when my family experienced an overwhelming wave of loss. It began with the sudden death of my 39-year-old Uncle Jody and godfather, followed by the passing of an entire generation of elders: my maternal grandmother, two great uncles, a great aunt who was like a second grandmother, and my maternal grandfather. My husband's cousin also suddenly lost her fiancé in a horrific car accident. During this period, I also learned I was pregnant with my first child. It was an overwhelming time.
I was at work when I got the call that my Uncle Jody had been found dead. I remember walking around the corner, tears in my eyes, in complete shock. As I repeated what I had just heard on the phone moments before, my manager Sharon just said: "Go."
Through each loss, Sharon provided unwavering support. She never questioned my needs or made me feel concerned about taking time away. She worked behind the scenes to arrange my leave and helped me reintegrate at my own pace. Her approach created a safe space that eventually enabled me to discuss my mental health openly and identify as a person with a disability.
When Susan became ill, I was working under another exceptional leader. Having built trust over eight years, I knew my boss Annik would respond with compassion. Our conversations were different this time, as I had been transparent about needing a career change. Her support for a potential long-term leave provided tremendous reassurance.
Susan's death ultimately catalyzed my departure from public service. Shortly after receiving news of her passing, I told my husband I was leaving. Susan had reminded me that life is too short not to be happy.
I am so grateful to Ian, Sharon and Annik. Not only did they support me through such a difficult time, they showed me what it meant to lead with compassion and kindness when someone needed it most.
As a leader, I was able to extend the same kindness to my employees in their time of need. Whether it was getting creative in the interpretation of the bereavement policy, or cobbling together leave to enable employees to cover time away to care for loved one at the end of their life, I went out of my way to ease their grief because it was what I had shown. At times it was challenging, but I generally made it work. It required me, as the Manager, to figure it out but I did it because it mattered.
The Path Forward
While I was fortunate to have extraordinary leaders, not every employee encounters such support. I've witnessed countless cases where employees needing time to care for dying loved ones or to grieve have been dismissed by their employers. There is an urgent need for workplaces to modernize their bereavement policies. Current policies are often insufficient and rely too heavily on individual leaders' discretion and humanity.
This shouldn't be left to chance. We must do better.
Grief is universal – whether it's the anticipatory grief that comes with a life-altering diagnosis, the sorrow of a ended relationship, or the profound loss of a loved one – grief is everywhere. As our society becomes more grief-literate, workplaces must lead the way. Work should provide support during grief, not additional burden.
Fortunately, innovative solutions are emerging. Companies like Bloomwell Partners , founded by my friend Janet Gwilliam-Wright and psychologist Mekel Harris, PhD, NCSP, PMH-C, CAGCS, are training leaders to navigate grief in the workplace. Bereave, a digital platform, offers comprehensive support for organizations and individuals, including personalized bereavement leave management, grief support services, and educational resources. These companies are not just offering solutions; they're changing the conversation about how workplaces can and should support employees through grief.
The future of workplace grief support lies in combining compassionate leadership with structured support systems. By acknowledging grief's complexity and providing appropriate resources, we can create workplaces that honour our shared humanity and support employees through life's most challenging moments. The conversation about grief in the workplace isn't just about policy change – it's about fostering a culture where employees feel seen, supported, and valued during their most vulnerable times.
It has taken me a very long time to appreciate that experiencing the depths of grief means that I was fortunate to have loved someone that much.
Susan's life reminds me to never take anything for granted. One year after her death, I know that the greatest tribute we can offer to those we've lost is to create spaces where their memory can live on, and where others can find the support they need to grieve, to remember, and to continue forward.
