What Grief Taught Me About Leadership

How loss reshaped my view of strength, presence, and what it really means to lead

Eighty-three days into my new role as Executive Director, my husband died by suicide. One day, I was learning the rhythms of a small nonprofit, meeting board members, and mapping out the first steps of my vision. The next, I was sitting on my living room floor, staring at the front door, wondering how I would tell my 6-year-old daughter her father was gone.

I didn’t have the option to pause my leadership. The needs of my team, our clients, and our community didn’t stop because my life had been split in two. What I learned in the months and years that followed changed me as a leader and as a person.

1. Leadership with softness is not weakness

Time became measured in the before and after. Before, I believed that to be professional, I had to keep an emotional distance. That people would respect me more if I maintained the separation between personal and professional. After, I realized that grief doesn’t allow for clean lines. It carries through every aspect of your life: your energy, your decision-making, the way you feel the truth of other's peoples pain.

When I stopped trying to hide my humanity, I noticed something surprising: my team opened up more, too. They shared more honestly about challenges at work and at home. The atmosphere in our meetings completely shifted. Suddenly, we were showing up and engaging with each other as complex people and learning to trust our team to help us acheive our goals together.

2. Your presence matters more than your performance

In those early months, I couldn't give 100 percent to everything. My capacity was limited, and I had to choose where my energy went. I learned quickly that not only didn't my team need me to be flawless; they preferred to know I wasn't. What they needed was my presence and my honesty.

Sometimes that meant sitting quietly in a room and listening. Other times, it meant making a clear decision so the team could move forward. Presence is not about filling every silence or fixing every problem. It’s about showing people they are not alone in the moment they need you most.

3. Leading through crisis is a long game

We often picture crisis leadership as a sprint, a burst of heroic effort followed by a return to normal. But grief taught me that some crises never “end” in the traditional sense. People carry them. They resurface in unexpected ways.

This has shaped how I approach organizational crises. I no longer think in terms of short-term fixes. I ask: What support will people need three months from now? Six months? A year? And how can we make space for that without burning out the people providing it?

4. Compassion and accountability can coexist

I used to believe these were opposites. That if you leaned too deeply into compassion you risked lowering standards. If you focused too much on accountability, you might come across as cold. But loss taught me that the most effective leadership is a balance of both.

During my initial grief, I appreciated people who showed me grace but also trusted me to follow through on my commitments. It reminded me that I was still capable, still valuable. Now, I extend that same mix of belief and expectation to others.

5. You can’t pour from an empty cup, but you can refill it in small ways

People love to repeat that saying about the empty cup, but they rarely talk about how to refill it when you don’t have the time or resources for a full recharge. It's a lesson I'm still trying to teach myself every day. To give myself the grace to find small, daily ways to restore myself: a walk around the block, coffee with a friend, five minutes of silence in my office before the day began.

These aren't grand solutions, but they kept me steady enough to keep leading.

The takeaway

Grief changes you completely. It strips away the illusions of control and leaves you with a deeper sense of clarity. Loss taught me patience and and to let go of perfection. It taught me empathy and grace at levels I never understood before. Leaning into that isn't about oversharing or blurring every boundary. It’s about leading as a whole human being and making space for others to do the same.

If you are navigating your own season of loss or uncertainty, remember this: your presence, your honesty, and your steady belief in the people around you are more powerful than you think.

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