By Vicki Milliken
‘I flip-flop between wanting to be cremated or buried’, says Karen Ingram, during a recent conversation at the Louis Joel Arts and Community Centre’s Death Café.
Once a month, Karen, a civil celebrant and the centre’s manager, facilitates conversations about death and dying over a cuppa and bikkies. She views it as a way of improving people’s death literacy. ‘Possibly my own experiences have highlighted how little is known about death or dying, considering it happens to all of us, in the end,’ says Karen.
The Death Café concept started life as Café Mortel in 2004, in the Swiss town of Neuchâtel. Its creator, the Swiss sociologist and anthropologist Bernard Crettaz, was a strong advocate for breaking the societal taboo surrounding death. The concept was popularised and formalised by Jon Underwood, who held his first Death Café in the basement of his London home in 2011. Since then, cafés have been held in over 90 countries, from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe.
‘Death Café,’ Karen explains, ‘brings people who are interested, curious, or who have questions, experiences and ideas about death and dying, together.’ She’s facilitated sixteen so far and says, ‘she’s loved every one of them.’
As someone who is galloping towards 60, I’ve popped along, drawn out of curiosity. Yes, death, and what might make a good death, intrigue me.
Ten of us, nine females and one male, casually drift in and take a seat. All have come on their own. Tim Tams, a personal favourite, take pride of place on the table served in a conceptual body drawer, refrigerated, akin to those found in a morgue. Karen kick-starts the session by having everyone introduce themselves. From there, the conversation never wanes.
The two hours fly by. The topics are diverse and range from the pragmatic (song choices for your funeral) to the reflective (who is a funeral for?). We’re asked whether anyone has thought about how they’d like to be dressed for life’s finale. ‘Don’t bury me with my bra, else I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life,’ quips one attendee.
Friends are aghast when I tell them how I’d spent my Saturday afternoon. Many were quick to change the subject. That doesn’t surprise end-of-life doula and celebrant, Anne Young, who I catch up with over coffee the week following Death Café. ‘Talking about sex won’t make you pregnant and talking about death won’t cause you to die,’ she assures me.
At 72, she’s enjoying life, but that doesn’t mean she’s buried her head in the sand about death (or dying). She has an Advanced Care Directive, in which she’s detailed her future healthcare wishes, and a special folder titled ‘She’s Carked it. Now what?’ to streamline the process after death for her family.
‘Many people have no idea where to start,’ she says, citing decisions about burial vs cremation, funeral arrangements, final resting place and the like. She is hoping ‘the family will be grateful, and [that it’ll] take away the guesswork.’
Anne is now writing her eulogy. I ask her how she can remain objective, since she’s so close to the subject. ‘My story, my way,’ she says, saluting me with her caffè mocha. I’m not sure I want to craft my entire eulogy, but maybe a few thoughts written in my own words.
Returning to Death Café for a second month, the conversation touches on the difference between coffins and caskets, the expense of these, the environmental considerations, and family expectations. Over carrot cake, another favourite of mine, Karen introduces the idea of being wrapped in a shroud as an alternative to both and I learn I could make my own and store it in the linen cupboard until it’s needed. It’s an option I’m now considering.
While for my life’s finale, the jury’s still out, cremation and composting are competing for the honours. My husband thinks a plaque is still a good idea in case anyone goes looking for me. And while he has no intention of joining me at Death Café, we have thrown a few ideas around about music and food.
One thing I’m very happy we’ve cleared up is that there’ll be no triangle sandwiches and insipid tea served afterwards. It’ll be champagne, fruit cake (sans glazed cherries) and scones with lashings of plum jam and real cream.
Having gone to all this trouble, it’s just a pity I won’t be around to enjoy it!
Louis Joel Arts & Community Centre hosts a monthly Death Café, on the last Sunday of every month from 2–4pm. 5 Sargood Street, Altona. Tea, coffee and something sweet provided. Donations welcome.
