As bodyworkers, we work with people in pain every day. Most often, we think of this in terms of physical pain—aching backs, stiff necks, tension headaches. But grief is its own kind of pain, and it shows up in the body just as clearly. What do we do when a client brings grief to our table? How do we offer support without trying to “fix” something that, it turns out, isn’t broken?
When I lost my wife to cancer last year, I experienced firsthand how deeply grief affects the body. Grieving a loss is not just a mental or emotional process—it’s physical, visceral, existential. In my own ongoing journey with grief, and in my work with others, I’ve come to understand that grief isn’t something to be “fixed.” Instead, as hospital chaplain and author J. S. Park said in our recent conversation on The Thinking Practitioner podcast (episode 130), “Grief at its essence is not about letting go, but about letting in.”
This shift in perspective is key for us as bodyworkers. Grief doesn’t need to be erased; it needs space. And often, under our hands are one of the few places where people feel safe enough to let it be.
Grief Isn’t Toxic, and It Isn’t Ours to Fix
We live in a culture that thinks of grief as a problem—something to get over and move past. Clients may even come in with this expectation: “Help me feel better.” This is understandable—who wants to hurt? But as Park explains, grief has its own timeline, and the pressure to “get over” grief can be just as harmful as the grief itself.
“When we avoid pain, when we avoid grief, we then create a second or additional pain,” the pain of wishing we weren’t hurting, Park says. “Ironically, this wishing it were different can itself become a festering emotional wound.”
As hands-on practitioners, we often want to alleviate discomfort. But grief doesn’t follow the same rules as a sore muscle or tight back. Instead of trying to take the pain away, we can create a space where clients can feel it safely, without judgment or urgency.
Holding Space, Not Rushing Healing
Park shares a story about a widow who continued to cook two meals every night—one for herself, one for her late husband. Instead of being told to “move on,” she was encouraged to transform this ritual into something meaningful, donating the second meal to a person in need.
This reminds us that grief doesn’t work on a schedule. Our clients may not be ready to “let go,” and they may not want to. Instead of guiding them toward closure, we can allow them to move at their own pace.
“Acceptance is living with the pain in a way that we’re not hiding from it, but fully feeling it as it is, and then living with it,” Park says.
The Power of Being an “Intimate Stranger”
One of the most profound roles we play is that of the intimate stranger. Clients often open up to us in ways they don’t with close friends or family. Park describes this dynamic beautifully: “We can easily enter into a trust space with a person that we have no background on . . . because we know that they’re approaching us with the innate and inherent promise that they’re entering with compassion, not with judgment.”
Grief can be isolating. The world often expects people to “move on” quickly, leaving them feeling unseen. But in our work, clients don’t have to perform resilience. They can simply be.
This is why grief sometimes surfaces unexpectedly during bodywork. A client may not come in intending to talk about their loss, but the simple act of being touched, or allowing attention to rest on oneself, can bring emotions to the surface. In these moments, our role isn’t to analyze or counsel or even soothe—it’s simply to witness, hold space, and to let them know they are seen.
Touch as a Form of Prayer
As a chaplain, Park is often asked to pray for people. But his approach to prayer is something we can learn from as bodyworkers: “What I do in my prayer is I will bring up specific points in the conversation . . . and that takes a great deal of concentration, a great deal of listening . . . but it helps this person to feel that someone is listening.”
We may not use spoken prayer in our sessions, but isn’t this something like what we do with our hands? When we touch someone who is grieving, we hold their sorrow as much as their fascia, skin, or muscles. With our touch, we acknowledge the weight they carry, the body they feel, even without words.
“Prayer is a way of affirming someone’s experience,” Park says. “A way of saying, ‘You are not alone in this.’”
Touch does the same. When a grieving client comes to our table, we don’t have to “fix” their grief. Sometimes, the most healing thing we can do is simply be with them—offering the profound reassurance of human connection.
Being With, Not Doing To
If there’s one lesson I’m learning from both my own loss and my work, it’s that grief is not something to be rushed. As bodyworkers, we can shift our role accordingly—not as pain-fixers, but as holders of the space that grief needs to breathe.
When a grieving client walks into our practice, we don’t need to worry about saying the “right” thing. Instead, we can remember that our touch, our presence, and our willingness to simply be with them may be the most healing gift of all.
As Park puts it: “We don’t move on. We move with.” And many times, all we need to do is walk alongside.
Resource
Park, J. S. As Long as You Need: Permission to Grieve. Nashville: W Publishing, 2024. aslongasyouneedbook.com.
