I’d argue that grief is always there – even if neither we coaches nor our clients name it as such. We’re forever facing endings, large and small: from redundancy and missed promotions to separations, health crises, empty nests and ageing parents.

Even seasoned coaches – trained to hold space, honour emotion and stay curious – can falter when grief enters the room. We rush to soothe, fill the silence, or reach for words that might bring comfort – but end up doing harm.

This piece isn’t about getting it right. There’s no perfect script. As Megan Devine (2017) reminds us, “Grief is not a problem to be solved. It’s an experience to be carried.” What matters most is presence.

So how do we best meet grief when it shows up in our coaching engagements?

 

Let’s start with the classic: ‘how are you?’

It’s reflexive, well-intentioned, practically synonymous with ‘hello.’ But in early grief, when time bends and the universe feels shattered, it can be impossible to answer – at least honestly, and within a socially acceptable word count.

Even the gentler ‘How are you today?’ – made popular by Sheryl Sandberg, former COO of Meta – can feel impossible. The day might already feel too big to hold.

In coaching, we have more space than one-liners allow. So we can go deeper, softer. Try:

‘Welcome. It’s good to see you. If you’re able, I’d love to hear how you are – in this moment, today. Take your time.’

Let the client set the pace.

 

Five phrases to avoid

I can be opinionated about grief literacy. And while there’s no universal right or wrong, these phrases often land poorly. See if any sound familiar.

1. ‘At least…’

• ‘At least they didn’t suffer.’
• ‘At least you had time to say goodbye.’ ‘At least you still have your job.’
• ‘At least’ never helps. It sounds like we’re trying to shrink pain – not for the griever’s benefit, but our own. It often implies: ‘Your pain is too big. Please soothe me.’ And in doing so, we increase distance, not connection.

2. ‘Everything happens for a reason’

Even if this is your personal belief, it can bypass the raw truth of loss. It risks skipping over now in favour of a spiritual future – when what’s needed is witness, not explanation.

3. ‘You’re so strong’

This one is tricky because it sounds like a compliment, but can land as pressure. It can imply: ‘Keep performing strength so I don’t have to witness your pain.’ Most grieving people don’t feel strong. They feel shattered.

4. ‘They’re in a better place’

Unless you know the client shares this worldview and is ready for that framing, tread very gently. Even when death brings relief, the ache of forever absence deserves space.

5. ‘Time heals all wounds’

Time does a lot of things, but time alone does not heal. Grief doesn’t vanish. It shape-shifts. Healing takes intention, presence, and space for the grief to unfurl.

Why do we say these things?

Because we care and we want to help. Because pain and silence are uncomfortable, and we’ve inherited a grief-avoidant culture that prizes tidiness over truth. At their heart, these phrases can carry an unconscious plea: ‘Can you be a little less messy, please?’

As coaches, we need to catch ourselves. We’re not here to tidy grief. We’re here to meet it.

Five things to say instead

1. ‘That sounds really hard’ Pause.

Simple. Empathic. No fixing, no reframing. Just presence.

2. ‘I don’t know what to say, but I’m here’ Pause.

A simple and honest offering. It says: I’m not going anywhere.

3. ‘Take your time’ Pause.

In moments of acute grief, the future focus of coaching can be unhelpful. Let your client slow down. Rushing to reframe or extract meaning rarely helps – at least not yet.

4. ‘Tell me about them’ Pause.

For death-related grief, this can feel like sweet balm to the soul. It says: I’m not afraid of your love, your loss, or your person’s name. It invites connection.

5. Silence – with presence

Sometimes the most powerful response is to say nothing at all. Not rigid silence, but accompanied stillness – the kind that says, ‘I am here for whatever is heavy.’

 

Presence trumps performance – always

Grief doesn’t usually show up as the stated coaching topic. It shows up in fatigue, lack of focus, flatness, anger, overwhelm, ambivalence… the list goes on.

Our role is not to diagnose or cheerlead. Nor do we need to reframe grief and loss into a growth opportunity. There might be no
silver linings.

Instead, we’re here to witness and to walk alongside. To hold space that says, ‘I know that this is yours to carry and I see how hard it is. I am so sorry.’

 

Supervision isn’t optional

If you’re coaching someone in acute grief – especially after a death – notice what it stirs in you. Your wounds and grief. Your own fears. Life-long tendencies to fix, rush, numb out or avoid. This is yours to explore.

Supervision helps. So do peer spaces that welcome the messy truths of this work.

And if you’re the one grieving, your client’s story may touch your own. Be gentle withyourself.

A final word

There’s no perfect script, and context matters. There is better language, but attuned presence matters more.

Grief, at its core, is love interrupted. There are no easy solutions. But there is solace in being seen – and accompanied.

It’s not a lot, but it’s everything that matters.

References

• Devine, M. (2017). It’s OK That You’re Not OK. Sounds True.
• Sandberg, S., & Grant, A. (2019). Option B: Facing Adversity, Building Resilience, and Finding Joy. WH Allen.

Next issue: Ecological/climate grief

About the author

Emma Pearson is an executive and systemic team coach, OD consultant, and business psychologist. She supports leaders and teams in navigating complexity, strengthening connections, and fostering cultures where both people and organisations can thrive. Loss has shaped her as much as her work. In the space of a few years, she lost one of her best friends, her youngest brother, her husband, and her teenage daughter. That depth of grief has sharpened her awareness of life’s impermanence, the urgency of living fully, and the kind of leadership we need in these times–one that is courageous, deeply human, and awake to what truly matters.