No More Mistakes with Death Cafe

Last week I was invited to attend a Death Café event that lasted two hours long. I have never participated in this type of activity, so I didn’t have any idea what was about until I got to the event.

Death Café is a group directed discussion of death with no objective or themes. It is a discussion group rather than a grief movement or counseling session. The fun fact at Death Café is that people eat cake, drink tea while discussing death. So as intimidating as it sounds, it is fun to participate as well.

My experiencing participating at Death Cafe was a bittersweet experience. The bitter side of it is that we talked about death; even in the most alleviated way, still, a strange thing for me, especially when you are still in your primetime like myself.

The sweet side is that you meet new people, eat cake, drink coffee or tea, and hear some funny stories.

Death is quite an intimidating topic to me because I’m more afraid of a dead person than any person alive. As a child, I watched horror movies.

I heard stories about the cemetery, etc. I became afraid of dead people and the cemetery.

At the Death Café, I shared a story of the first time I attended a funeral service. The first funeral service I attended was when my grandpa from my dad’s side passed away, and I was seven years old.

During the funeral service ceremony at church, I don’t remember the day of the week. I remember it was an afternoon around 2 PM when the pastor called the family member to walk around the casket and say goodbye.

I was escorted by my auntie who held her hands over my shoulder as I walked towards the coffin, I remember when I see my grandpa dressed in a white tuxedo with cotton in his nose, and white socks with no shoes.

I innocently asked my auntie where his shoes are?  My auntie answered that they would bring his shoes when he wakes up. My auntie ushered me to the parking lot to take me home and that I didn’t know that would the last time seeing my grandpa.

I started to miss the routine of going to grandpa’s house; I began to ask my parents when are we going to grandpa’s house?

They never told me the truth. I believe my parents were afraid to tell me the truth or that they didn’t know a better way to say to me that my grandpa is no longer with us until one day, my mom once pointed where he is living now.

She pointed me the cemetery, which was not too far from where we lived, and I naively asked my mom why grandma is not living with him there? (Laughing) she said grandma does not live there, but she always visit him, and I would tell my grandma to transmit my regards to grandpa every time I would see grandma.

As I am sharing my stories with folks in the table, I could see in their eyes wondering how I reacted when I learned about the death of my grandpa., although I was not afraid of my grandpa, I refused to visit the house until I was in my freshmen year in high school.

My take from Death Café is that discussing death helps us to die as we wish even though we cannot control what will lead to our departure.

A definite conversation about death might not only clear some myths but serve as a source of comfort.

I still not comfortable walking by the cemetery, attending funerals, or seeing a dead body as a result of my first experience, but that shouldn’t stop me from having a sense of awareness.

When it comes to death, the one thing we all have in common as a human being on this planet, we are going to die that’s guaranteed.

Be humble, make smart choices, have compassion for others because you and I will die one day for sure.