Q&A

What grief taught a partner about being human

Cheyne Scott on slowing down, showing up and rethinking success in the legal profession

(Courtesy Cheyne Scott)

Grief doesn’t stop for deadlines. Lawyers must keep showing up—for clients, for colleagues and for the court—even when their personal world has come undone.

Here, we have a candid conversation with Cheyne Scott, a partner at Chasan Lamparello Mallon & Cappuzzo in Secaucus, New Jersey. She talks about how grief reshaped her understanding of professionalism, what supporting someone who is grieving looks like and how loss can quickly change your priorities.

—Interview by Emily Kelchen, edited by Bianca Prieto

The death of a loved one is something every person on the planet deals with at some point, but few talk about it. You do, and I appreciate that. Can you share a little bit about the way grief affected your perspective on the pace and pressure of legal practice?

My dad died of cancer in January of this year and it was a bit unexpected. He had cancer the year before, but had undergone treatment and went into remission. He had just found out in December that the cancer was back, but was going to take some tests to see how serious it was. Before he had a chance to take the tests, he went into the hospital and he passed away a week later.

His death has given me a sharper filter for what’s real and what’s manufactured. There are things in this profession that do matter, like deadlines, client needs and billing. But so much of the pressure you feel is self-imposed or driven by panic over things that aren’t truly urgent.

Grief helped me see how unnecessary some of that panic is. I learned that I don’t have to absorb other people’s urgency. It’s okay to step back, even if the world keeps spinning.

It sounds like your priorities have shifted, even though you remain a very in-demand labor and employment law attorney.

Absolutely. So much of my joy in achievement came from sharing it with my dad. He was my biggest cheerleader. If I posted something on Instagram or LinkedIn before telling him directly, he would call me and say, “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting an award?” He lit up at everything I accomplished.

Now that he’s gone, the striving feels different. Not less important, but quieter. The part of me that wanted to see his face light up grieves the loss every time something good happens.

I still value my career and accomplishments. But these days, I focus more on being someone he would be proud of. Someone who lives with integrity, empathy and joy. The kind of partner people feel supported by, not the source of their stress. And I want to be someone they can turn to during tough times. This profession is about more than just practicing law. It is about how we treat each other.

Have you found that kind of support within the legal community?

I was genuinely overwhelmed by the support I received.

I’ve been active in the state bar, county bar and several affinity bars, and many of the members reached out to me with cards and other messages expressing sympathy, which meant a lot to me. The Hudson County Bar Association sprang into action. They sent food to me and my family in Michigan, even though most couldn’t attend the funeral.

My firm was also incredible. They said, “Whatever you need, we’ve got it.” No pressure. Just compassion.

I took two weeks off. At the time, I worried it was too much. Now I think it wasn’t enough. Nothing fell apart. Deadlines were moved. Coverage was arranged. And now that we are approaching the end of the year, I’m on track with all my numbers. But even if I weren’t, that would still be ok. Taking time to heal didn’t ruin me. It grounded me.

Obviously, you don’t join bar associations or pick a place to work with funeral flowers or cards in mind. But when tragedy hits, the community you’ve invested time and energy in often finds meaningful ways to show up for you.

Do you think law firms and colleagues could do more to support lawyers in grief? And if so, what would that look like?

Yes, and it doesn’t have to be complicated. Send flowers. Support their files. Communicate clearly. Give space. And most importantly, let people know that their humanity is valued just as much as their work.

What would you say to lawyers dealing with personal loss but feeling pressured to keep it together professionally?

No one is going to give you permission to take care of yourself. You have to claim that. And it is hard. But it is necessary.

Take the time. Take the space. Be honest with the people you trust. I can tell my paralegal, “Today’s not a good day,” and she understands. My colleagues support me fully. That kind of culture is invaluable.

Even with support, you need tools. Therapy has been essential for me. I encourage lawyers to use whatever mental health services are available.

And when the feelings hit, let them. If you keep pushing them down, they will come out at the worst time. Let yourself feel it. Grief doesn’t go away on a schedule. It shows up when it wants to. Make space for it, even in small ways.

Thank you so much for sharing all this. Is there anything else you want to be sure to mention?

Hug your people. Even though my dad’s death was unexpected, I look back at the last time I saw him when I was home in Michigan for Christmas and can smile knowing our last interaction ended with a great big hug.

If someone (friend, family, etc.) crosses your mind during the day, text them and set up a time to talk or meet with them. You’re probably already scrolling through your phone. Reach out. Send a quick message. Set up a time to catch up. Chances are, you’ll both be glad that you did.