The rest is silence.

I have been traveling quite a bit over the last couple of weeks and have spent a lot of time in airplane seats. When not sleeping or reading (Shakespeare only wrote 37 plays, after all), I’ve had the chance to watch some movies I’ve missed over the last couple of years. One of those was “Hamnet,” the story of the death of Shakespeare’s young son.

If you haven’t seen it, “Hamnet” is based on the oft-cited theory that Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” was in some way based on Shakespeare’s grief over his late son. The names are, after all, obviously similar, and apparently were often interchangeable. The movie takes liberties with history, especially in the relationship between Will and his wife Anne Hathaway (called “Agnes” in the movie as she was on occasion in life). Jessie Buckley is extraordinary in the role of Agnes, and she won an Oscar for her performance.

I didn’t see the movie last year or refer to it (or the book on which it was based) in “A Memorable Honor” because I was mostly done writing when it came out. In truth, I also thought the story it tells would be too sad to process. I wasn’t wrong: “Hamnet” is one of the saddest films I’ve ever seen. It’s a little embarrassing to be blubbering in an airplane seat next to a salesman from Indiana, but that’s what I ended up doing.

The movie opens a new door to the depth of Shakespeare’s work. The film’s closing scene ties the last act of “Hamlet” to Hamnet’s death in a remarkable way, granting Will and Agnes - and the audience - the catharsis that is so remarkable in Shakespeare’s art. For some of you, Shakespeare may seem a little dry and distant. Watch the end of “Hamnet,” and you’ll see his emotional power with fresh eyes.

Abraham Lincoln never saw “Hamnet,” of course, but he lived the story. His own beloved son Willie died during his time in the White House, leaving Lincoln and his wife in agony. Lincoln found solace in Shakespeare; One story I include in my book involves Lincoln weeping while quoting lines from Shakespeare’s seldom-performed “King John,” poetry where grief is personified as a lost child.

What does all this have to do with leadership? Well, everything: Grief is a part of all of our lives. As Hamlet said, “In this harsh world, draw thy breath in pain…” Leaders should recognize that the people in their charge may be silently carrying burdens and should strive to be resources for them in their moments of darkness; in these moments, their people will often look to them for comfort and support. Outside of their close circle of family and friends, few others in our lives can provide this support in the same way as someone in a leadership position.

This is a vital role that leaders play in the lives of their people. No leader can be successful - or human - without at some point playing that role.

But this works both ways. Leaders also carry their own burdens. They will at some point need support too. In the bleakest of times, the people whom leaders serve can also serve them, helping them bear the heartaches and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. Those are the times are when leadership pays the greatest dividends, when the leader, in deep vulnerability, in effect becomes the follower and reaches out to his or her people for help.

Until next time (when I promise this blog won’t be so sad).

Frank

P. S. If you haven’t done so, please add your name to the “Who Art Thou” link below to receive updates as we get closer to the September 15 publication of A Memorable Honor:  Shakespeare, Lincoln and the Art of Leadership.

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Mortal and unsure