Mick—who was joyful, eccentric, and full of life—is reflected by his bedroom, which he furnished with ridiculous and treasured artifacts. Furthermore, the family’s grieving process is signified in their relationship with Mick’s bedroom. On the evening of the accident, Phoebe can’t bear to see her father close Mick’s bedroom door. For her, this symbolizes the finality of Mick’s death, and the fact that he will never enter his bedroom again: “I ran to where he was standing. ‘Please, Pop,’ I begged. ‘Please.’ I pushed Mick’s door open again” (27). In the following days, Phoebe can’t bear to enter the bedroom; it feels “off limits […] like a church altar or a cemetery or something” (38). At this stage, Mick’s bedroom is still closely linked in Phoebe’s mind to the tragedy of his death, which she is unable and unwilling to confront.

As Phoebe learns to live with Mick’s loss, her brother’s bedroom becomes a place where Mick can be commemorated and celebrated. Phoebe inspects Mick’s array of treasures when she is missing him. The autographs from “Herb Fogg, the weatherman on Channel 3” and “some guy named Tweets who had been dressed in a bird suit at a local pet store opening” speak to Mick’s sense of humor (38). Phoebe laughs aloud, remembering all the times she laughed with Mick.

Later, Phoebe finds solace in the fact that Mick’s bed still smells like him—“then I buried my face in his pillow. And I breathed in the smell of him” (68). Later, Phoebe and her mother lie on Mick’s bed and tell stories about him, laughing at how infuriating and hilarious he was—“remember how irritating he was on vacation last summer?” (71). Being in Mick’s space makes them feel closer to him. Barbara Park explores Learning to Live With Loss as the family’s relationship with the space evolves from raw grief toward acceptance and commemoration.