Tea, cake, and an honest chat about death

As I approached my 70s, I became interested in the gentle Swedish art of “Döstädning”, or death cleaning – basically, leaving everything in order for your loved ones before you die. Things like making arrangements for any pets in the event of your death, choosing what possessions you want to dispose of in your lifetime, and so on. It’s still a work in progress for me. I’m finding it a bit sad, but also interesting and therapeutic. As I worked my way through, I felt a renewed interest in joining a Death Café.

Introducing the Death Café

I first became aware of the Death Café movement about 10 years ago, but in the busyness of life I didn’t follow up my interest. Then came the pandemic and lockdowns. I wasn’t going anywhere. But a couple of years ago, I learned about an online Death Café, which I’ve now been attending for about 18 months.

Are you thinking that a Death Café sounds a bit morbid? I promise you it isn’t. The Death Café movement was founded in London in 2011 by Jon Underwood. Since his death in 2017, it’s been run by his mother, Susan Barsky Reid, and his sister, Jools Barsky. The objective of the Death Café is ‘to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives’. It could equally be called a Life Café. Because once we face the reality that our lives are finite, that awareness can help us to live as fully as possible, whatever our circumstances.

There are now around 20,284 Death Cafés spread over 93 countries. They have no paid staff and are run by volunteers on a not-for-profit basis. They offer a safe, confidential space in which to explore ideas and feelings around life and death. The facilitators are there to help as needed, but there’s no set agenda and or specific themes.

A relaxed environment to chat

Group members start the discussion, which will develop as people choose over the meeting. They aren’t offering grief support or counselling, and there’s no intention to encourage any particular conclusion or course of action. It’s also important to mention these days that nobody is trying to sell anything! The original idea for the face-to-face meetings was that people could sit together in a relaxed environment and enjoy conversation with other people  - and cake, too.

The pandemic encouraged the development of online Death Cafés, like the one I attend (which means I have to make my own cake). There are usually between 8 and 14 people, with two facilitators. You don’t have to attend every month – people attend as often as they wish. In the Zoom meetings, you’re free to talk as much or little as feels comfortable for you. If you want to keep your camera and audio off and just listen, that’s fine. It’s fine to participate more actively if that's what you want. Each meeting lasts around an hour.

Facing my fears

There’s a real mix of people in the meetings – male and female, ill and healthy, old and not so old. We’re drawn together by a common interest in naming death and talking about how the awareness of mortality informs our lives in the here and now. Some people work in palliative care or research or have experienced multiple bereavements. And some just want to explore death with others who share the same interest.

I’ve found the meetings I’ve attended interesting, stimulating, occasionally upsetting but above all, honest.

It’s human and normal to fear death, but I’ve found that the more I’ve faced my fears, the less fearful I’ve become. I’d like cake, too, but you can’t have everything!

You can find out more on the Death Café website.