On October 13th, we had to put down our beloved Cappuccino, our Golden Retriever who was a part of our family for nearly 13 years. My wife and I knew she was slowing down and losing her hearing. But her energy for affection, long walks, and retrieving was still strong. Then, almost in an instant, she could barely walk, her breathing was more labored, and her head was cocked to one side. We took her to the veterinarian, and he said we likely had only 24 more hours with her.
Cappuccino had seen us through the empty nest phase of life, yet remained a focal point for family conversations and connection. Sometimes in the middle of the day, my daughter would text from New York, "Cappuccino picture please." And of course I would quickly comply. My son, who lives in Florida, had a unique way of getting Cappuccino's attention over speakerphone that would make our dog instantly happy. Cappuccino was the fifth member of our family that bonded with many of our experiences. Now we all feel her loss.
Back in 2012, I wrote about the loss of our first Golden, Taffy, and what loss looked and felt like. Taffy had helped my family through a major move to Italy, the loss of my parents, and our return from Italy at a critical point in my kids' lives. It's funny and unique how a pet can aid people during times of upheaval and transition. As we prepared for our cross-cultural move to Italy, we were encouraged to name a "sacred object" that would serve as a tangible anchor and a symbol of stable hope. Taffy was our "sacred object" in that season for our whole family. When she died of cancer, I personally felt the loss very keenly. I think it represented the deeper loss of my parents that I had not fully processed.
As I have reflected on both of these episodes over the past couple of weeks, I realized how important feelings of loss are to a leader's life. As leaders, we are often exhorted to fight through struggle, challenges, pain, and loss. We have teams to lead, organizations to run, and important objectives to reach. People look to their leaders to be steady in times of upheaval and instability. Loss can exist at a personal level or an organizational level. Yet, I think there is a real cost to not feeling — and to not letting others know that you feel.
In this season, I realized I was choosing busyness and productivity as ways to avoid feeling the loss. I think many leaders lean into busyness, productivity, and noise to block the reality of loss. Here are a few things to consider when that reality is nagging at your leadership.
The tension: To feel or not to feel?
The goal isn't to feel everything all the time, nor is it to suppress our emotions so we can keep functioning. The goal is to develop the capacity to acknowledge, experience, and process our emotions without being controlled by them.
In other words, healthy leadership requires both the capacity to feel and the wisdom to act.
When Leaders Allow Themselves to Feel Loss
We discover what matters most.
Grief reveals attachment. The depth of our sadness often reflects the depth of our love, the significance of a relationship, or the meaning of an experience. For leaders, loss can clarify our values, expose misplaced priorities, and remind us of what deserves our attention and affection.
We become more empathetic leaders.
Leaders who have made room for their own pain may become more sensitive to the pain of others. They can listen without rushing to fix, offer presence without demanding progress, and recognize that people experience loss differently. Our own grief can deepen our capacity to accompany others through theirs.
We grow in emotional self-awareness.
Feeling helps us identify what is happening within us. Rather than allowing unrecognized emotions to influence our decisions, tone, or relationships, we can name what we feel and discern what it may be telling us. This is a key component of emotional intelligence.
When Leaders Choose Not to Feel Loss
We preserve our capacity to function.
In the immediate aftermath of a loss, leaders may need to make decisions, care for others, and meet pressing responsibilities. Temporarily setting emotions aside can help us get through what must be done. This can be adaptive when we later make room to process what happened.
We create space until we are ready.
Not everyone can process an intense loss immediately. A little distance, routine, or distraction may provide the emotional breathing room needed to approach grief when we have more capacity. Healthy grieving does not require constant sadness.
A leader's maturity is not measured by how little pain they feel. Nor is it measured by how openly they express every emotion. It is reflected in their ability to recognize what they feel, understand what it means, regulate their response, and choose a wise next step.
For a leader who has experienced organizational loss—a trusted colleague leaving, a failed initiative, a season of decline, or the end of a meaningful chapter—the same principle applies. If we move too quickly into problem-solving, we may miss the opportunity to acknowledge what the loss meant to the people involved.
For leaders, learning to feel appropriately is not a distraction from leadership. It is part of becoming a more self-aware, compassionate, and grounded leader.
And sometimes the most productive thing a leader can do is stop being productive long enough to feel what matters.
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