Grief in children doesn’t always look the way we expect it to. Some cry openly. Others grow quiet. Some become more clingy, while others push everyone away. I’ve met children who laugh when they talk about someone they lost — not because they aren’t sad, but because they’re still figuring out how to express that sadness.
Grief is not linear. And for children, it’s especially layered.
Over the years, I’ve had the deep honor of working with children in hospice programs, bereavement groups, and hospital settings around the world. In those spaces, I’ve seen how pediatric touch therapy, when used thoughtfully and with sensitivity — can offer comfort that words sometimes cannot.
The Weight of Loss
Whether a child has lost a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend, or even a beloved pet, that grief can settle into the body. We see it in hunched shoulders, clenched hands, averted eyes. The body keeps score — of sadness, fear, confusion.
Touch therapy gives us a way to gently hold space for all of that.
It says: I’m here. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to explain. You’re safe.
Creating a Safe Container for Feeling
When I work with grieving children, I never rush. I never assume. Some children may not want to be touched at all. Others may long for closeness but aren’t sure how to ask.
That’s why we always begin with asking permission, and being open to whatever answer we receive. Respectful, choice-based touch is about empowering the child to feel some sense of control in a world that may currently feel very out of control.
Gentle touch, like a slow back stroke, hand massage, or simply resting a warm hand on their shoulder, can offer comfort and grounding.
The Role of Ritual and Repetition
Grieving children often benefit from routine and predictability. When pediatric massage becomes part of a quiet moment each day or week, it can help restore a sense of normalcy. The ritual itself can be healing.
One little boy I worked with in a hospital had lost his twin brother. He didn’t speak for nearly a month after the loss, but he allowed his mother to gently massage his feet each night. Over time, during those moments, he began to talk — not just about his brother, but about his own sadness, fears, and hopes.
Touch can open doors when we approach it with gentleness and presence.
