Grief in the workplace: is it even allowed here?

What happens when no one talks about it

When someone you love dies or a life-limiting diagnosis arrives, the world collapses in an instant. Maybe it's a child, a sibling, a parent, a partner, or someone with whom you shared your life. Memories, rituals, the ordinary things of daily life — suddenly existing only on the inside.

And then daily life comes back. The emails, the meetings, the deadlines, the birthday messages. The world keeps turning while your own has stopped. Grief can't be planned. It doesn't fit in a coffee break or a status report. And yet, many people are expected to function.

How do you handle it when someone on your team is grieving? And how would you want to be treated if you were the one going through it?

When performance matters more than humanity

I thought long and hard about whether to share my own experience. I spent eleven years at Booking.com, working across different teams, countries, and roles. It was a valuable, formative time. And yet there were moments when I found myself asking: who am I allowed to be as a human being at work?

Vacations, weddings, and kids were talked about freely. But the moment topics like loneliness, separation, illness, or death came up, the response was quick: "That's private." When I mentioned that I was training as a volunteer family companion at a children's hospice, I was told: "That's too depressing. It brings the mood down." Or people went silent when I talked about it. Over time, I stopped sharing.

That's when I started questioning what humanity at work actually means.

When did we stop sharing the hard things with each other? And what does it do to us when we pretend that work is a place where feelings have no room?

1,007,758 reasons to finally pay attention

In 2024, 1,007,758 people died in Germany. Around 140,000 of them were between the ages of 20 and 65 — right in the middle of their working lives. Colleagues, parents, partners, friends.

When we look at those numbers, can we really keep telling ourselves that grief is "private"? Do we actually believe that people leave their pain at the office door and walk in as perfectly functioning versions of themselves?

Grief goes to work with us, whether we talk about it or not. Some people wear a mask. Others hold onto their work to keep from falling apart.

And this is part of it too: grief after a miscarriage or stillbirth. A loss that often stays invisible, because almost no one talks about it. Many people return to work far too soon — out of a sense of duty, out of fear of being seen as unable to cope, or even of losing their job. And they carry an incomprehensible emptiness that goes unseen and unnamed. This form of grief is just as real, just as painful, and deserves the same space, the same acknowledgment, and the same compassion.

When we as a society and as organizations truly accept that grief is part of life, we understand this: it belongs to all of us. Today it might be your colleague. Tomorrow it might be you.

Training for everything — except compassion

During my years in corporate life, I attended countless training sessions: feedback, leadership, time management, sales, presentation skills. But never a single one on grief in the workplace.

Why? Because the topic is uncomfortable. And yet that discomfort is exactly a sign that it's time to pay attention.

A single workshop per year that gives leaders and teams some orientation would already make a difference — before a crisis hits. Because one thing is certain: it will hit. People will say goodbye to loved ones. They already are. Colleagues will die. And how organizations respond will determine whether trust grows — or breaks.

The silence after a colleague's death

Two months before I left the company, a colleague I had worked closely with for years died. I found out on Facebook while I was on vacation in Hawaii — not from my manager. His explanation: he didn't want to "disturb" me.

That sentence hit me hard. Because it showed how unprepared most organizations are when it comes to grief.

Later, a psychologist was brought in to support the team in a single online meeting. I offered my own support — I was already working as a grief companion — but my offer was declined. A virtual memorial took place, but many people who had worked closely with her were not invited. The feedback was subdued, the atmosphere heavy — and shortly after, the subject was quietly closed.

That's when I knew: I want to work somewhere where humanity doesn't end when someone dies. I want grief and recognition to have a place.

People like my colleague, who give so much and put so much of themselves aside to make things happen, often contribute enormously to a company's success through their dedication and commitment. They bring knowledge, time, and loyalty — and for exactly that reason, they deserve to be valued. Not only while they're alive, but beyond their death too.

And something crucial is often overlooked: employees watch very carefully what happens when someone in the organization dies, or how someone is treated when they've lost a loved one. They sense whether the compassion is genuine or whether silence is preferred. And they draw their own conclusions. In the best case, trust and connection grow. In the worst case, distance grows and people ask themselves: Would it be the same for me? And sometimes that's the moment when people start wondering whether they belong there at all.

How do you handle death in your team? What do people need in those moments to not go silent? And what does our relationship with grief say about the culture of an organization?

Why humanity also makes business sense

Organizations invest time and money in their people — in training, recruiting, leadership. But when someone is left alone in a crisis, the organization loses far more than productivity: it loses trust, loyalty, and its humanity.

Someone who has poured years of commitment, knowledge, and heart into their work doesn't want to be reduced to their functionality when things get hard. A workplace culture that ignores grief doesn't just lose people over time — it loses its own credibility.

A culture of grief doesn't start in a crisis — it starts today

All of these experiences led me to create my online course trauer@work (www.traueratwork.com). It shows companies and leaders how to understand grief, support those who are grieving, and integrate it into their culture — in a way that is professional, human, and practical.

Why it's worth addressing this proactively:

• A trusted resource in the team:

  After the course, you'll be a reliable point of contact in your HR role — someone who offers orientation and strengthens a supportive team dynamic.

• Preventive action:

  Like a first aid course, this training gives you clear guidelines for handling situations involving grief — creating structures that provide stability and foster an open workplace culture.

• Prepared for when it happens:

  Grief in the workplace brings uncertainty. How do you bring it up? How can you actually help? After this course, you'll know how to respond with respect and sensitivity and stand genuinely by those who need it.

• Return to work:

  Coming back after a loss can be hard. You'll learn how to sensitively support people through that transition, recognize their needs, and create a workplace where they feel held.

What you learn in the course reaches far beyond the workplace — it carries into your personal life too. Once learned, it can be applied again and again, whether you're supporting a colleague, a friend, or a family member.

As the founder of t.rau*raum, I bring over eleven years of international business experience together with my work as a grief companion, meditation teacher, and volunteer family companion at a children's hospice. This combination allows me to create concrete solutions for a workplace culture that is both human and professional.

Conclusion: Grief needs room — even between emails and meetings

Grief is not a disruption in the system. It's part of being human. It reminds us that work isn't only about goals — it's also about relationships. When we have the courage to make grief visible in the workplace, we don't just create space for pain — we create space for compassion, trust, and real connection.

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. If you feel your organization is ready to create a more human approach to grief, take a look at my course trauer@work at www.traueratwork.com, or reach out to me directly. Let's make sure that humanity has its place in the workday too.

Photos: Melissa Eimecke-Beschorner