People talk about grief like it has stages. Like you move through them in order and come out the other side with some kind of resolution. I’ve been grieving my mother for 48 years and I can tell you that’s not how it works.
Joyce died by suicide when I was 20 months old. I don’t remember her voice. I don’t remember her face without a photo. What I have is an absence, and the absence doesn’t follow a schedule.
TL;DR: Grief doesn’t follow stages or timelines. I lost my mother to suicide at 20 months old. Forty-eight years later, the grief still shows up unannounced. The only thing that works is letting it be there without trying to fix it or explain it away.
When it shows up
It’s never when you expect it. Not on her birthday, not on the anniversary. It’s random. A woman in a grocery store who laughs a certain way. My daughter Josie doing something that makes me wonder if my mother did the same thing at that age. A quiet Sunday when I don’t have anywhere to be and the silence gets loud.
I’ve been in the middle of board meetings and felt it. Not sadness exactly. More like a pull. A reminder that there’s something missing and it’s always been missing and it always will be.
The construction years
When I was running my roofing company, I didn’t have time for grief. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I was too busy growing the business from $1.5 million to $15 million, hiring crews, chasing contracts, showing up at 5 AM to walk jobsites.
The truth is I was using work as a way to stay ahead of it. If I kept moving fast enough, the grief couldn’t catch up. That strategy worked until it didn’t. It stopped working around the time my marriage fell apart, which probably wasn’t a coincidence.
What healing actually looks like
I don’t love the word healing because it implies an endpoint. Something is broken, you heal it, now it’s fixed. Grief over a mother I never knew doesn’t fit that model.
What I’ve found is something more like accommodation. The grief is here. It’s always been here. I stopped trying to outrun it or fix it or turn it into a lesson. Sometimes it just hurts, and that’s allowed.
My therapist told me once that grief is just love with nowhere to go. I thought that was too simple when she said it. Years later, it’s the truest thing anyone has ever said to me about it.
Why I talk about this publicly
People ask me why I share this on stage, in interviews, in my advocacy work. It would be easier not to. Talking about your dead mother in a room full of strangers is not comfortable.
I do it because silence around grief is what makes it heavy. My mother’s death was by gun violence. Suicide by firearm. That fact connects my personal grief to my public advocacy in a way I can’t separate and don’t want to.
Every time I talk about losing her, someone in the room recognizes their own loss. Not the same loss, but the same weight. And for a few minutes, neither of us is carrying it alone.
What I want people to know
If you’re grieving and it doesn’t look like the books say it should, that’s fine. There’s no right way to miss someone. There’s no timeline for getting over it. Some things you don’t get over. You just learn how to carry them and still show up for the people who are here.
That’s what I do. That’s what my mother’s absence taught me, even though she never got to teach me anything else.
About Khary Penebaker
Khary Penebaker is a Regional General Manager at Great Day Improvements, overseeing operations across Chicago, Madison, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis. He previously built Roofed Right America from startup to $35M+ in revenue with 180 employees and founded Penebaker Enterprises, growing it from $1.5M to $15M. A gun violence prevention advocate and former Everytown for Gun Safety Fellow, Khary brings two decades of leadership experience in construction, operations, and civic engagement.
Frequently Asked Questions
How do you deal with grief while leading a team?
You acknowledge it exists. Pretending you are fine costs more energy than being honest about a hard day. Your team does not need you to be unbreakable. They need you to be real.
Is it okay to talk about grief at work?
Yes, with boundaries. Sharing that you are carrying something builds trust. Dumping details on your direct reports crosses a line. Know the difference.
How long does grief last?
It does not end. It changes shape. I lost my mother 48 years ago. The grief is not the same as it was at 20 or 30 or 40. But it is still there, and it still teaches me things.
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Last updated: March 25, 2026