It’s hard to know what to expect when you sit in a room full of strangers to talk about death. It’s a topic that most of us don’t like to think about, even though we’re all going to get there someday. Which is one of the reasons a man named Jon Underwood started the original Death Café in 2011 in his home in the UK.
According to their website, the idea of the Death Café is “to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives.”
Underwood’s idea has spread across 81 countries and landed here in Prescott about 8 years ago, thanks to Dani LaVoire, whose experience as a home birth midwife also translated into a passion for helping families guide their loved ones through the end of life. She signed up as a Death Café facilitator and found a home at the Peregrine Book Company until the pandemic threw a wrench into public meetings.
And maybe because of the pandemic, this year seemed like a good time to try to start again. Two of the members of the former Death Café, with Dani’s help, relaunched the group this January at the former Sean Goté art gallery.
A reoccurring theme of the website is the need for refreshments, particularly cake and tea while hosting these discussions. It makes sense. So many important moments in our lives revolve around food: birthdays, graduations, wedding receptions, holiday parties, and even funerals. A cup of coffee and a piece of cake can make talking to strangers easier in almost any situation.
This is why I was happy to see plates of cupcakes, cookies, a basket of teas, and a big Thermos of hot water waiting when I walked through the doors of the new location a couple of weeks ago. The facilitators, Michelle and Otis, greeted me and encouraged me to help myself to treats.
I took my warm cup of tea and cookies over to an empty chair and sat down, wondering what the next two hours would be like. Michelle started with some basic group ground rules: There is no specific agenda, topics, or questions. Listen and keep what is discussed in the group confidential after the meeting. Share what you feel comfortable sharing. And finally, while Death Café is not meant to be a grief support group, grief and loss may come up as part of the evening’s discussions.
We worked our way around the circle, introducing ourselves and talking about what drew us to join the Death Cafe that evening. There were a few moments of awkward silence as a group of people without an agenda and so many different reasons for attending tried to figure out who was going to start talking first, but someone started and then another person joined in and before I knew what happened, I was hearing stories about life, death, sorrow, joy and the pieces our loved ones leave behind for us to remember them.
I found myself sharing stories I didn’t expect to share about what I hoped the end might be like for me when that day finally comes. Maybe it was the magic of the warm tea in my hands — nobody forced me to speak or put me on the spot — but suddenly there I was, telling curious strangers my thoughts on a topic that most people don’t enjoy thinking about, much less talking, about.
The evening flew by, and suddenly I was helping fold up chairs and pack up the remaining cupcakes. We all headed out into the cold January night air with more things to think about than when we walked in, and a small window into the lives of a handful of other people who call this community their home.
The Prescott Death Café meets each month if you want to try it yourself. Visit www.deathcafe.com to find out where they are meeting or check to out other locations and dig deeper into the story.