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My siblings and I received a call from our mother's caregiver in 2019. It was time to come home and say goodbye. She was losing her grueling battle with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease.
I flew from Seattle to my hometown of Virginia Beach to be with my mother as she passed peacefully. In the days following, we boxed up her rental home.
Eager to experience normalcy, I returned to work shortly after. I thanked my coworkers for covering my workload and tried to resume my responsibilities as a sales executive. New customers don't sell themselves.
Before I could open the handwritten cards on my desk, the warmest of homecomings came from my coworkers: a standing ovation that put me in tears. Attempting to make me feel comfortable with this new grief became a goal of the collective. But I still had hundreds of to-dos and messages to handle that reminded me of why I was absent in the first place.
Removing my out-of-office message wouldn't remove how mentally out of office I felt.
Individuals who had lost a loved one at work and were willing to share their stories became my allies in the grief. Like a familiar deal, we understood the intricacies. Business is certainly not a one-man show, and the grieving process wouldn't be either. It took a cross-functional collaboration.
My coworkers committed to checking in, which alleviated my need to seek out conversation. Reading messages like, "I know we'll connect more when the time's right, but I'm so glad you are back. Thinking of you at this time," helped.
I felt valued and seen without needing to say anything.
Coworkers also reassured me I wasn't alone by sharing their own stories of grief. By proactively telling me their stories, they lessened the need for me to share, which could trigger unwelcomed sadness — typically in the form of a puffy red face and watery eyeballs. Every day, I knew individuals next to me were carrying the same weight.
I was terrified this mental out-of-office would take over my ability to perform, ultimately jeopardizing my paycheck. I was scared my job would feel like another funeral.
I thought my grief would make me lose productivity and lack a sense of purpose. I also wondered if I spent too much time thinking and talking about my mother, I wouldn't be able to reach my sales quotas.
But because my coworkers were so urgent in showing up for me, my sense of purpose and productivity didn't suffer.
The proof is in the pudding. I capped that first year of grieving by being the highest performer on my team. It turns out grieving is a team sport.
Amid grief, I learned I had a support system at work. Having co-workers who are open to helping you experience grief rather than hiding it makes not only a more productive employee but also a stronger team.
Liza Shaub is a writer with a background in technology and sales. She lives with her three daughters and husband in Baltimore, MD. You can find her on Linkedin and Instagram.
