The Heart of Cisco: A Family Beyond Work
Grief …
I’ve always believed in owning and sharing my truth, hoping it might help others. But what happens when your truth is so heavy it feels like it might crush you?
On May 28th, my world shattered. I got the devastating call that my sister, Tabitha, and my father, William, had passed away. Since then, it’s been days filled with anger, heartbreak, and confusion.
I was on a business trip when I received the call, and Alison, a dear friend and team member, instinctively wrapped me in a hug. She took my phone, called my husband — who was thankfully in town with me — and stayed by my side because words just wouldn’t come. This moment brought back sharp memories of when my mother passed, and how my Cisco family stepped in then, surrounding me with love. Their presence was a steadying force when I felt like everything was falling apart.
Doug, my business partner and the brother I never had, didn’t hesitate. He reached far and wide across Cisco, ensuring I felt the support I desperately needed. The community he rallied became my lifeline, offering strength and solidarity when I needed it most. Jeetu, our EVP, sat with me, offering quiet company, knowing this pain firsthand all too well himself, and arranged for a counselor when I couldn’t find the strength to seek help, something I wouldn’t have done on my own.
These weren’t just gestures — they were ropes thrown down to me when I felt lost in the abyss.
Mike, a Cisco leader, mentor, and friend assured me I’d smile again someday. At the time, it seemed impossible, but his belief lit a small spark of hope. Another leader within Cisco shared small joys, reminding me of the simple pleasures I could still find in the everyday.
Calls poured in from those who cared, people who listened patiently until they heard a bit of lightness in my voice. Some even hopped on planes, traveling miles just to sit with me, showing me I wasn’t alone. My team took over my work, allowing me to step back and grieve without additional stress. They gave me the space to heal, just as they did when I lost my mother. Their understanding meant the world, letting me focus on what truly mattered.
On November 2nd, I laid Tabitha and William to rest. The room was filled with Cisco colleagues from all points in my career, many of whom had flown in just for the day. Cisco, once again, showed me it’s more than just a place to work; it’s my haven, a community uplifting me when I’m at my lowest. Each person’s words and actions reminded me that I wasn’t alone, showing me what being there for each other really means. These aren’t just people I work with; they’re people who’ve stood by me in the best and hardest moments throughout the past ten years. They lift me up, celebrate with me, and support me when things get tough.
In these moments, I discovered that family can be found in the most unexpected places, and these connections are what help us heal the parts of us that are most broken. Looking back, I feel an overwhelming sense of loyalty and thankfulness. The support from my Cisco family has allowed me to breathe again, showing me that true strength lies in community and that it’s okay to feel broken and need help.
My story is just one among many here, showing how a caring community can truly make a difference in our lives. It’s a testament to the power of human connection and the profound impact it can have. If you’re struggling with grief, know that communities like this exist. They’re ready to support you, to lift you up, and to remind you that you’re not alone.
I’ve found mine at Cisco, a place I call home, with the people I call family.
Our supportive culture starts with our people. The environment that helps us thrive? That’s powered by Our Purpose.
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