Come to the Death Café by Tracy Assing

When my friend invited me to the Death Café last year I really didn’t know what to

expect. I really wanted to support her and her work but I was also really intrigued. What

was a Death Café? Was there a dress code?

She assured me that the first one would be virtual so I didn’t have a panic attack about

what to wear. Not because of vanity but because I wanted to be inconspicuous, so it

was important to know if we would all be wearing black or purple, because I might have

worn khaki.

When it was first mentioned, I half expected that I would walk into a dimly lit room with

heavy emo vibes. Are people so obsessed with death that they want to hang around

and talk about it? I thought. Sounds a little morbid.

By the time the first one rolled around in July, I was having a full blown panic attack

about it. What would we talk about? What could I say?

They tried their best with the most comforting language on the notice:

Does it sound morbid? Are you uncomfortable with the name? That’s why we need to

talk about it! Death is the one thing we can be sure of, yet when it comes to talking

about it there is so much fear and superstition.

The Death Cafe is a safe space where you can share and listen and discover that it is

NOT morbid - in fact it can be very re-affirming and empowering.

I love my friend and she does have a way with words, but I was still full of doubt.

The first one was held in July and I flaked. When I finally came around to making an

appearance, it was November and I remember tapping on the Zoom link with some

lingering trepidation.

I joined just as we broke off into little groups to talk. Most of the folks I met that night, I

had never met before but I relaxed into my regular chatty self as we discussed how we

wanted to be remembered, how we wanted to be interred, what the ritual or ceremony

might look like amid peels of laughter, shared stories, intriguing questions, and

wondrous segues.

We talked about small deaths, the nature of death, death in nature, the expansiveness

of grief, the community to be found in grief, grief’s transformative nature, the fact that

some parts of us die everyday, the life to be found in death.

I left feeling like my internal garden had been tended by friends.

I didn’t make it to every meeting, but by the Carnival session, I’d committed to being a

regular. I love the fact that every session I make it to, makes me see life differently or

lifts the lid on something previously unknown.

At Carnival, I really tapped into the way j’ouvert has always marked the beginning of the

year for me, as it is so soaked in the spirit of rebirth. Thinking of it more deeply in those

terms (of death and rebirth) allowed me to examine and honour the parts of me that I

was letting go of, or letting die as I prepared for the challenges and triumphs of the new

year.

I feel like my understanding of my own existence has grown with these sessions.

This is the way of nature, the dead ‘live on’ by giving its life to feed new life.

I am not obsessed with the idea of death. This isn’t a cult. It truly is a safe space. There

is no manipulation. No oppressive rules. Just open discussions around what people

really think and feel about death and grief.

I think these conversations are really necessary. Often when we are going through

something, we feel like we are in it alone and like no one will really ever understand how

we feel. But we are all connected. Just like the trees send medicine to heal each other,

we too can heal each other and sometimes all that is really required is that we take the

time to listen.

Now you can come too. Online or in-person. See you there.