Pull Up A Chair #2

Last weekend, I stepped away from my work and into something very different.

I attended a three-day Grief Camp at Kripalu in Western Massachusetts.

We gathered in a circle—strangers at first—and over time became a community. Through writing, movement, ritual, and clinical practice, we learned how to tend to grief, not fix it.

We shared stories. We listened. We held space for one another.

It was transformational.

And it brought me back to a moment I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

In July 2024, I lost my dad suddenly.

On the day he was taken to the hospital, I made a decision I still carry with me.

I took a work call.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t critical. But in that moment, I felt pressure to take it. I didn’t feel like I could say, “I need to go. My dad needs me.”

On my drive to the hospital, I got a call from the doctor asking about my dad’s DNR wishes.

When I arrived, they were doing compressions.

A few moments later, I held his hand, spoke to him, and he passed.

I’ve replayed that decision more times than I can count.

Why did I take that call?

Why didn’t I feel safe enough to step away?

What was it about the culture, expectations, or leadership that made me hesitate?

I carry both guilt and resentment.

And I know I’m not alone.

The next day, my workplace sent a basket of flowers—the same one sent for weddings, births, and losses alike.

Well-intended. Kind.

But it made me wonder:

Is this how organizations understand grief?

Because grief is not a moment.

It’s not a milestone.

It’s not something that resolves in a few days of leave.

We often reference the “five stages of grief,” but lived experience tells us something very different.

Grief is not linear.

It doesn’t follow a timeline.

It comes in waves—unexpected, persistent, and often lifelong.

And here’s the deeper truth:

We are people before anything else.

Grief is a universal human experience. At some point, every employee, every leader, every team member will carry it into the workplace.

Which means this is not a fringe issue.

It is a leadership issue.

This is where human-centered leadership matters most.

A human-centered leader who understands grief:

• Creates psychological safety for people to step away when life demands it

• Knows that support doesn’t end after a few days of leave

• Checks in weeks and months later—not just in the immediate aftermath

• Understands that productivity will ebb and flow

• Makes space for humanity without requiring people to “move on” too quickly

• Models empathy in both words and actions

Because how an organization shows up in moments of grief is not a small thing.

It is a reflection of its values, culture, and humanity.

At Grief Camp, one thing became clear:

Grief needs space.

It needs acknowledgment.

It needs community.

When someone on your team experiences loss…How does your organization show up—not just in the moment, but in what comes after?