I attended a death cafe

An image from Death Cafe on the Central Coast, NSW. Photo: Kim Ryder

An image from Death Cafe on the Central Coast, NSW. Photo: Kim Ryder

I've been compiling a list of songs to play at my funeral. No, I haven't had a near-death experience and I'm not terminally ill. In fact, I'm fine. I've just been coming to the realisation for awhile now that I am going to die. And so are you.

Strangely, few friends or family will indulge me in discussing the subject. In my family, death is pushed to the edge of life and only reluctantly tolerated at funerals – uptight, depressing affairs where crying visibly (let alone volubly) threatens to splinter the fragile social veneer overlaying our collective fears.

Fortunately, not everyone thinks like that. All over the globe, groups of like-minded, death-confronting people are meeting up at Death Cafes to eat cake, drink tea and talk about death. It's not an underground movement; everyone's welcome. According to the Death Cafe website  the objective of this "social franchise" is to "increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives".

Death Cafe evaluation form is filled out at the end of the session. Photo: Kim Ryder

Death Cafe evaluation form is filled out at the end of the session. Photo: Kim Ryder

The first Death Cafe in the UK was held in 2011 by founder Jon Underwood, who was inspired by the Cafés Mortels set up by Swiss sociologist Bernard Crettaz. So far there've been at least 200 events, most in the US and Britain, as well as Canada, Italy and Australia. Some take place in actual cafes; others in spaces hired for the event. There are guidelines for facilitators to follow, one being that refreshments, ideally tea and cake, are made available at every event. Despite my aversion to mixing death and food (it seems I'm not the only one who sees it as taboo), I head to my first Death Cafe one Tuesday night, armed with an open mind and a box of tissues.

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This one's a death-related film night with discussion to follow, and I join 13 people, aged from about 25-75, in a quiet drumming studio. Some of them already know each other, and as I head for a cushion on the floor, I hear one of them laugh to another: “Yeah, I was at the last one, too. I'm becoming a real deathie.”

Does that make me a newbie deathie, I wonder? Should I try and be blasé or will the film, Cherry Blossoms, turn me into a blubbering mess? (Directed by Doris Dörrie, the story takes place in Germany, then Tokyo during hanami, the fleeting cherry-blossom season. We meet a couple, a stifled and self-sacrificing wife and her dour, oblivious husband, as they grapple with getting older and the disrespect of their adult children. The unexpected death of one spouse leads the other to Japan and, ultimately, redemption.) Fortunately, it's more uplifting than depressing and there's no need for the tissues.

An image from Death Cafe on the Central Coast, NSW. Photo: Kim Ryder

An image from Death Cafe on the Central Coast, NSW. Photo: Kim Ryder

About halfway through, my cushion proves inadequate for my nearly middle-aged bones and a kind soul offers to share her beanbag. Bless. Brownies are handed out towards the end, but I can't bring myself to eat one until the main character has met his untimely but picturesque end beneath Mount Fuji.

With cuppa in hand, we share our first names, but not our reasons for attending and start the discussion proper. The film's brought up plenty of issues that mirror our own fears. Will we die with our dreams unfulfilled? Can we fulfil the wishes of the dead? Which partner will die first? How will the other one cope? Will we rely on the kindness of strangers, rather than family, to comfort us at the end?

There are a few over-50s in the room and talk turns to caring for aged parents. One selfless soul visits her dying mother-in-law every day to give her, and now other residents in the dementia ward, love and attention. I hope there's someone like her around when I get old. Others talk of the lack of community these days, a disconnection between generations, and rifts with children they worry will never heal.

The under-30s are more upbeat. One adores her family; they've all moved to the same street to be near each other. Another tells of her Gran who loves her aged-care facility and bails on family occasions to get back there as soon as she can. It's an intergenerational snapshot of the lead-up to death as well as the main event. Fascinating stuff.

The discussion goes up a notch when we talk about cross-cultural ways to mourn, including a confronting scene in the film that shows a skeleton post-cremation and an elaborate Japanese ritual where family members pick up the larger bones with chopsticks and carry them to an urn.

Could we hold that kind of ceremony in Australia, we collectively ask? “No,” pipes up my beanbag pal, who reveals she's a funeral director. I wonder why she's there but it seems rude to ask. The questions start flying and the bigger issues make way for the nitty gritty. “I thought all the bones turn to ash?” “No, they grind them,” she says. Wow. “Can you go and watch that?” asks one of the facilitators. “No. Sometimes you can watch the insertion of the coffin.” Why would you want to, I think? But some do.

One of the facilitators, who nursed her mother for eight months until she passed away, tells how she asked their funeral director if she could view the body being cremated. The answer was a resounding no. “What are the regulations around that kind of stuff?” someone asks. “The Australian funeral industry isn't regulated,” says the funeral director. (It's self-regulated. You can read more about that here,  as well as a little about what goes on behind closed doors.)

Suddenly the discussion, which I find both horrifying and fascinating, is over. It's time to vacate the hired studio, but people linger to chat and help pack up; there's a real sense of connection among this small group of strangers.

The next event will be an open discussion and, according to Death Cafe facilitator Kim Ryder, the one who asked about watching the cremation, it's likely to be more intense than tonight's “gentle” one. Gulp. Apparently, one past event got rather heated when two groups aired their opposing views. “It was pretty intense,” says Kim. “We had to stop the discussion. Death Cafes are not a place to debate our spiritual or religious beliefs about what happens when we die.”

Still, there's no shortage of people wanting to talk about death. Past attendees have included everyone from psychics to palliative-care nurses, art therapists and psychotherapists, people who have had near-death experiences and, of course, those who have lost someone close. “It's different every time,” says Kim.

She seems amused but interested that I found the discussion challenging. There's little about death that fazes her. As well as facilitating Death Cafes, she also owns an end-of-life and after-death support and education service that runs death-focused workshops and community events. She'll even paint you a coffin to match your personality. “I live and breathe this stuff,” she says.

Hopefully after a few more events I'll have a little more of her courage, although I'm not keen on the upcoming behind-the scenes tour of my local crematorium with picnic to follow. In the meantime, I'll keep making the most of my finite life. I don't want regrets.  I don't want “I should-haves”. I want to live each day as if it were my last.

So I'll keep adding to my "Funeral songs of all time" playlist and sharing it with my friends. There'll be no Wind Beneath My Wings at my funeral, but I'm hoping my family will crack a smile at Don't Worry, Be Happy or at least have a good, loud cry. Or course, I'm in no hurry to test my theory (not that I'd be alive to see it) and hoping like hell that writing this has not tempted Fate.

Lifeline: 131114

 

 

20 comments

  • This is quite a good idea. I've always found it fascinating how we humans have an innate ability to ignore the 'we're all going to die one day' elephant in the room.

    Commenter
    Piper
    Date and time
    October 16, 2013, 9:19AM
    • Death has been hushed up and swept under the carpet in our society. The discussions and recognition of death nourishes and enrich our lives.

      The Spanish philosopher Unamuno said 'humans are the only animal that horde and guard their dead."

      Commenter
      LZ
      Date and time
      October 16, 2013, 4:05PM
  • If you can't discuss anything that might happen after you die then it's just a pre-death cafe like all the others.

    Commenter
    bg
    Date and time
    October 16, 2013, 9:43AM
    • What an interesting concept.

      I think that accepting that life is finite is an important step to realising that we only have a limited number of days on this earth. From there its up to each individual to decide how you want to spend those days.

      I saw an interesting meme the other day that said: you have approximately XXXX days in your lifetime, how will you spend them. I think the number was only 26,000 or something thereabouts. Doesn't seem like that many when you put it that way.

      I think its important not to become obsessed or overly focussed on death. yes its going to happen but personally, would much rather focus on making as many of my 26,000 days fulfilling ones. Whether I laughed or cried or learned. I would rather be productive.

      I think on my deathbed my biggest regret would be having spent a life worrying over things that I have no control over. So each day I do my best to remind myself to let those things go to the wind. The universe will look after that.

      Commenter
      Adrian
      Location
      Sydney
      Date and time
      October 16, 2013, 10:55AM
      • Great comment(our is that I agree?).
        A Gypsy band to follow the empty hearse; where the departed soul has internally combusted on a windy day. Sorry that I won't be there!
        64 going on 15

        Commenter
        Neville
        Date and time
        October 16, 2013, 7:08PM
    • This does sound fascinating.

      Commenter
      Gabriel
      Date and time
      October 16, 2013, 11:31AM
      • How truely sad that young people are becoming obsessed with death. We are over 60 and the thought of death doesn't enter our minds as there are so many things to live for.

        Commenter
        thatmosis
        Location
        Isis Central
        Date and time
        October 16, 2013, 12:02PM
        • Did you actually read the story before commenting?

          Like this bit:

          "According to the Death Cafe website the objective of this "social franchise" is to "increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives".

          Or this bit:

          "In the meantime, I'll keep making the most of my finite life. I don't want regrets. I don't want “I should-haves”. I want to live each day as if it were my last."

          Commenter
          JEM
          Location
          Melb
          Date and time
          October 16, 2013, 1:09PM
        • @thatmosis - Yes life is for living but please tell me you haven't completely buried your head in the sand and that you are not going to leave everything for someone to look after once you've passed away. If this the case and it's your children then shame on you. In the past 4 yours I've had the task of having had to arrange funerals for both my mother and my intellectually disabled brother. I didn't leave the planning until they'd passed away I planned both events in advance, because I knew that when the sad event occurred I would be suffering from grief at their passing. The philosophy in our family is that you can be sure of two things in this life - you will pay tax (in one form or another) and you will die.

          Commenter
          HRC
          Location
          Melbourne
          Date and time
          October 16, 2013, 1:28PM
      • I never usually comment but feel I am in a relatively unique position on this one, because, yes, we are all going to die - but I've been told that I have less than 12 months. I'm not that old (42), married and have children, was otherwise very fit and healthy, but the progress of cancer diagnosed last year has been such that oncology now says there' s nothing that can be done. So the hypothetical "bucket list" question is a very real one for me. By the way, I haven't accepted the diagnosis as final - it's just their opinion and I continue to explore all avenues to heal myself (and I've heard enough tales of "spontaneous remission" to allow a sizeable degree of hope).
        I think when it comes down to it acknowledging that death is a certainty, albeit one in which the timing is unknown, is important for all of us. It's important to be able to talk about it, if only to be able to truly recognise that with limited days, hours, and minutes, we really do need to make the most of our time to be the best we can be and to live in truth. The "Death Cafe" sounds like a good place to explore, but I don't know about "living and breathing" this stuff or getting too hung up. There could/will be a time when you'll have to think and talk about it much more than you'd like, and frankly there are probably better things I would choose to do with my time!
        "Learn like you'll live forever, live like you'll die tomorrow".

        Commenter
        mikkimak
        Date and time
        October 16, 2013, 12:41PM

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