A safe space to talk about the end of life
Photo by Dorota Trzaska | Unsplash.com
Who will take care of my pets when I die? Who will make decisions for me if I’m unconscious? And what kind of funeral do I want, if any?
These are just some of the practical questions that come up at regular gatherings — known somewhat tongue-in-cheek as “death cafés” — intended to help people honestly talk about the touchy subject of their own death.
“Even though we all have a 100 percent mortality rate, less than 35 percent of us do any planning,” said Gail Rubin, an author who held one of the first death cafés in the country in 2012 and is today one of their main proponents. “Funerals are the parties no one wants to plan,” she said.
Death cafés originated in Switzerland, where the late sociologist Bernard Crettaz established the first Café Mortel in 2004 to destigmatize the topic of death.
Inspired by a newspaper article about Crettaz, British web developer Jon Underwood began hosting teas to talk about mortality in 2011.
Today, these one- to two-hour gatherings are held all over the world. The format varies, but there’s often food, questions, discussions and an exchange of ideas or tips. They take place in restaurants, breweries, cemeteries (including D.C.’s Congressional Cemetery), private homes, parks and virtually over Zoom.
“In order to call yourself a death café, you have to follow certain rules: not try to sell anything, offer refreshments, etc.,” said Rubin, who has held one almost every month for more than a dozen years. About 30 people typically attend hers, she said.
Once people get over the initial discomfort of talking about death, “there’s actually a lot of laughter at these gatherings,” she said.
Gatherings in this area
There are several death cafés that meet regularly in our area.
“My death cafés are getting more and more people every month,” said Patricia Dubroof, director of community relations of Assisting Hands of Potomac. She has been hosting the gatherings, both in-person and on Zoom, for six years.
“Death cafés are an opportunity to chat about all the ‘what ifs,’ and get really practical information — on death doulas, legal help, financial planning, insurance and so many pieces,” she explained. “Just because your loved one dies doesn’t mean you’re an expert on all those things.”
Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers about your final hours than to your own family, Dubroof said. You can discuss what kind of music you’d like to hear, for instance, or whether you want a funeral service, and if so, what kind.
“It’s not only about writing it down; it’s about talking about it — and it doesn’t have to be a macabre conversation,” she said. “We’re not going to live forever, so let’s open the conversation. The more we talk about it, the less weighted it gets.”
Rubin points out that the more we plan, the less work we leave to our grieving family and friends. She recently lost her mother, husband and several other family members.
“They had already paid for their funerals. That took a lot of burden off my shoulders,” she said.
Making fun of death
Rubin graduated from the University of Maryland with a degree in communications and film.
While there, Rubin created a satirical film of the Grim Reaper playing chess with a knight. The film “predicted that I would be making fun of death, and that’s [become] my raison d’etre. It’s the thing I was born to do,” she said.
Rubin also organizes an annual festival to encourage conversations about death. This year’s festival, — the Before I Die Festival — was held last May in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
Both the festival and monthly gatherings are a way, as she puts it, to gather with others to simply “talk about what’s on your mind about mortality issues.”
To search for a death café in your area or to learn how to host one, go to deathcafe.com.
