Everyone writes on their own, without seeing what others wrote — so you get honest comfort instead of fifteen people signing the same line.
Remote team, or people out of office? Everyone adds a message or a short video from wherever they are. No clipboard going desk to desk.
Quiet, restrained artwork made for this moment — not a repurposed celebration card. Nothing loud, nothing out of place.
Grief doesn't keep a schedule. A keepsake they can reopen weeks later means more than a card read once and set down.
A warm memory, or simply a few words of comfort for [name].
Let [name] know they're not alone right now.
Offer something specific — a meal, a hand with their work, your time.
Keep it simple and sincere. Presence matters more than perfect words.
“There are no right words, so I'll just say: I'm so sorry, and I'm here.”
From a sympathy card to a grieving colleague
“Take all the time you need. We've got things covered — don't think twice about work.”
From a sympathy card from a manager
“I'm holding you and your family in my thoughts this week.”
From a sympathy card from a teammate
“I lost my dad a couple of years ago. If you ever want to talk, or not talk, I'm around.”
From a sympathy card from a colleague
“Sending you so much love. There's no rush on anything here.”
From a sympathy card from the team
“Thinking of you. A meal's on its way Thursday — no need to reply.”
From a sympathy card from a coworker
Start a card now. It takes 20 seconds, and it lets the whole team say "we're here" — together.