Grieving is so very hard. No one knows how to do it the first time they grieve, so they fumble their way through it. And it hardly gets any easier with each subsequent loss they sustain.
When we experience the death of someone we love, it’s difficult enough wrestling with the fact that they’re gone. One of the aspects we aren’t prepared for is the impact of some of the secondary losses: having to move (and thus losing a home), loss of identity or financial stability, loss or cancellation of future plans and — the loss of the physical presence of another. In fact, almost mysteriously, “absence” becomes a powerful physical force.
Grieving the loss of a loved one can resemble experiencing a phantom limb, whereby the brain still expects input from a missing part, causing pain or a sense of presence where there is none. Sensing the familiar weight or pressure beside you is the “phantom limb” of your shared bodily routine.
Grief forces a painful recalibration of your senses to the painful absence of… a specific scent or smell, the echoes of his unique gait as he walks down the hallway, the lilt of her melodious laughter, the familiar weight next to you in bed. The body does not register the loss as an abstract event but rather a disruption of physical equilibrium.
The familiar weight — the repeated habitual presence of their body in the familiar shared space like the bed — becomes imprinted on your nervous system. When the person is gone, the familiar pressure, warmth or boundary is missing, and the body registers the absence as a negative physical sensation — a hollow disorienting feeling.
The sudden lack of tactile experiences such as the arm around your shoulder is shocking. Missing the warmth of his hand on yours is a form of sensory deprivation that the body viscerally reacts to and actively longs to feel again, which contributes to the feeling of restlessness and anxiety.
The missing sound of his snoring or her soft breathing late at night, her humming as she cooked dinner or the familiar sounds of him closing down the house before coming to bed are what is known as the acoustic void that resoundingly echoes the silence that feels eerily foreign.
You become disoriented in your own body because of your habitual way of being in the world. Your movements, the way you sleep and your sense of safety were co-created with the deceased. You are left behind without knowing how to act or how to be, how to exist coherently in a world that is suddenly alien to you.
Loss reshapes your physical experience of the world, often tied to a specific sense. The way grief lives in the body, not just in the mind, makes ordinary and familiar objects and places unbearable or hollow.
Here are some suggestions for taking small steps to adjust to your loved one’s absence in shared spaces:
Redefine the space: Change the sleep setup. Turn the bed in a slightly different direction, sleep on his/her side of the bed, get a body pillow or different ones. Even the smallest changes can disrupt the expectation of their presence.
Introduce different textures or weight: Use a weighted blanket or bedspread to bring forth a different intentional tactile experience to fill the void rather than registering the absence of their physical body. Take or wear your loved one’s clothes to bed when things become more difficult. The texture, the scent of their worn shirt, pajamas or robe provides a sense of familiarity that is not only comforting but serves as a sensory bridge that turns a loss into a deliberate physical memory instead of a painful emptiness.
Transform the acoustic environment by playing soft soothing instrumental music in the background, sounds of nature like gentle rain, ocean waves or birds singing (a sound machine can be good for this). The goal is to calm down the nervous system and create a sense of comfort, grounding and peace. Silence is also a powerful part of the acoustic environment allowing for cathartic emotional processing and healing. It is important to recognize that grief doesn’t just affect the heart — it alters and disturbs your entire orbit. This is why it’s important to be kind and gentle with yourself, to intentionally slow your steps, to breathe slower and deeper, because when you’re grieving, you are not your usual self. You need to take time to get to know yourself all over again.