Grief looks different today than it did a generation ago. In an era where screens hold memories once kept in photo albums and letters, voices can be replayed, and faces can be re-created, artificial intelligence (AI) has quietly entered one of humanity’s oldest struggles: how we face death. The capability of software to speak in the style of someone who has died represents a profound shift in how we process grief and remembrance.
Dr. Shisei Tei, a psychiatrist at Kyoto University, has spent years studying this uneasy crossing. Despite his minimal use of technology—he doesn’t even own a smartphone—Tei relies on AI for his research, using it to sort psychiatric data and plan hiking routes. However, he harbors concerns about the implications of these systems entering the realm of grief.
AI’s Role in Reframing Grief
In his contribution to the book SecondDeath: Experiences of Death Across Technologies, Tei explores how AI reframes grief and remembrance. He suggests that therapy chatbots could make mental health care more accessible, particularly for those who avoid clinics or live in remote areas. However, he warns of the hidden risks associated with other uses of AI.
“AI-induced virtual continuations of the deceased can comfort the living and extend memory to some extent,” Tei says, “but they can also blur presence and absence, potentially hindering our capacity to accept impermanence.”
When software mimics a deceased loved one’s voice or message style, death can start to feel reversible. While this may initially soothe, over time, it can delay the painful truth that someone is gone.
When Machines Shape Mourning
Throughout history, many cultures have treated the mind and body as separate entities, with the body dying and the mind continuing on. Tei notes that this belief made it easier for societies to imagine an escape from death. Modern technology, with tools like brain scans, digital avatars, and memory archives, promises that pieces of a person might live forever in data.
Tei, who grew up in Taiwan and now works in Japan, approaches the study of death through psychiatry, religious thought, and neurophenomenology—a framework proposed by biologist Francisco Varela. This approach examines how the body, mind, and lived experience shape one another. Varela’s work, influenced by Tibetan Buddhism, introduced the concept of the “selfless self,” a guiding idea in Tei’s research.
According to Tei, living beings are systems that continuously make and remake themselves, much like cells in an organ. This view alters our perception of identity. “Selfless selves refers to being both altruistic and autonomous, maintaining one’s individuality while remaining in harmony with others and the wider world,” he explains.
In this sense, identity is not a sealed unit but is shaped by friends, culture, work, love, and loss. When someone dies, a piece of their story continues within others, making memory a shared property rather than a private possession.
The Cost of Quick Answers
Tei expresses concern that heavy reliance on software might narrow emotional life. Computers thrive on fixed choices and clean outputs, but death does not work that way. Grief is complex and often defies logic. People search for answers that no system can provide.
“Outsourcing decision-making or emotional support to machines risks weakening the very wisdom we aim to cultivate,” he says. “When sadness gets reduced to prompts and replies, suffering can look like a problem to solve rather than a wound to feel.”
Tei highlights the importance of shared silence and unspoken signals—like a hand squeeze at a bedside or a long pause after bad news—moments that build empathy and connect people when language fails. Loneliness, he adds, is not always an enemy; time alone can invite reflection, and grief forces individuals to sit with uncertainty, often revealing inner strength.
Learning to Live With Death
Tei argues that death should not be treated as a glitch to fix. It is an integral part of life from the moment life begins. In his writings, he encourages families, doctors, and communities to engage in more open discussions about dying. He believes the concept of the selfless self could guide end-of-life care, emphasizing emotional bonds over mere physical comfort.
“Death becomes certain once life begins,” Tei writes, “and denying its anticipation risks denying life itself.”
Rather than racing toward digital immortality, Tei advocates for embracing shared experiences—stories, touch, and presence—which shape how death feels and how life is valued. While AI will continue to evolve, he does not call for its rejection but for a balanced approach. He uses these tools himself but hopes people remember that no machine can replace the fragile, moving truth of being alive.
Practical Implications of the Research
This research challenges how society uses AI in mental health and grief support, urging therapy designers to create tools that assist rather than replace human care. Families might reconsider using chatbots that simulate deceased loved ones, especially if these tools impede healthy mourning. Hospitals and caregivers could adopt the idea of “selfless selves” to focus on emotional bonds during end-of-life care, not just physical comfort.
For the average person, the message is clear: while LED screens can store memories, only people carry meaning. Understanding this may lead to healthier grieving and deeper connections.
Research findings are available online in the journal Springer Nature.
