Everyone has one. A period of time during the year when you are more aware of personal loss in your life.
My season is Labor Day through early October. You might think it was borne out of the confluence of beginnings and endings that punctuate my childhood in New England. The start of a new school year. Milking the last glorious drops out of the Cape and Islands. Fall right around the corner. Sweaters, apple cider, and all things pumpkin. The end of another long, more often than not painful Red Sox campaign. A new season for the Pats. Winter looming on the not-to-distant horizon. Don’t get me wrong. All of these take place during my season. They just did not give birth to it.
My season is inextricably linked to my brothers. Both died too early in life. Robert and John have been gone for more than 20 and 30 years respectively. This month we would have celebrated John’s 65th birthday while in early October we mark Robert’s death from AIDS-related complications. Candidly, the passage of time has done little to diminish my sadness. And then there is the randomness of how often it surfaces and stirs up anxiety and fear about my own mortality.
But what is most striking is how my brothers continue to be such a powerful, lasting and mysterious presence in my life today. Truth be told, my entire adult life is impacted by their deaths and what continues to emerge in the time and space created by such loss. Their presence can be felt on most days and influences nearly all of my major decisions. And there is the nearly constant reminder how precious life is and how the time we have with each other is truly special.
As human beings, we experience loss in every aspect of our lives. We cannot avoid it. And yet through loss there is a wellspring of compassion, love and light for all of us. Maybe it is because we share a common experience and by extension are emotionally connected to people all around the world—including those we have never met. Or maybe there is a seemingly unending source of love and kindness that lives within us. Or maybe it is a higher power or lifeforce that seeks to soothe our pain. Regardless of the source, I believe that there is always light after darkness.
There is a myriad of losses that shape us no matter our identity. The death of our parents and other family members. Separations, divorce, and breakups. The loss of friendships. Physical and mental health challenges that can accelerate and multiply as we grow older. The loss of our home due to fire, natural disasters, conflict, or financial difficulty. Amidst the pain and sadness, these experiences can create an outpouring of compassion and love from so many people in our lives. That outpouring lights the way forward for us. In the end, the best we can hope for is to sit with the loss, see what is illuminated in that moment, and put one foot in front of the other comforted in the knowledge that we are not alone.
Leaders are not immune to loss. It can take the dramatic form of immediate job dismissal or forced resignation. Or the departure of a long-term client, valued employee or volunteer. Or the loss of a contract, grant, or other key book of business. Such loss by its very definition is both personal and emotional. As much as we want to, we cannot avoid the professional pain. Authenticity and humility demand that we stay open and feel all of it. To avoid or ignore the pain is to short-circuit our grieving and ultimately cloud our thinking in an emotional fog.
Leaders must also recognize the seismic impact that loss has on relationships within our organizations. Loss inevitably creates a newfound complexity that cannot be readily understood by even the most self-aware leaders. During such time we cannot race past the pain and vulnerability flowing through our organizations. In my leadership experience, this is a time when less is more in terms of leadership response. The moment calls for an authentic yet humble leadership presence backed by thoughtful word and deed. Why? Because our teams are processing loss on their own schedules and at different speeds (and not according to some predetermined formula or process).
Last and most important, leaders need to learn to sit with loss. As hard as it is to do, leaders should strive to remain as open as possible to what could emerge over time from the space created by loss. Of course, in the moment it seems impossible to imagine that anything good can come from such loss. Yet given time and space, loss teaches us important lessons about who we are as a person and a leader. We can find greater compassion and empathy and more resilience and strength by reflecting on the lessons we learn from the hardship and humility that comes with loss. And the learning does not stop once the grieving process is complete. We continue to reflect on these lessons throughout our lives and that offers newfound meaning and perspectives which better inform our future choices.
This fall I encourage you to reflect on the questions below and to make time and space to see what emerges for you. And remember there is always light after darkness.
When is your season?
What are the most impactful lessons you have learned from loss?
How do these lessons influence major choices for your organization or in your personal life?
How has your perspective(s) changed over time as you reflect on major losses in your professional and personal journeys?
And how has COVID-related loss impacted your vision and strategic goals for your organization in 2023 and beyond?