I’ve been hearing about Death Cafés for a while. People gathering for conversations about death in each other’s homes, or literally in cafes, starting out as strangers in many cases but quickly finding intimacy in the all-too-human stories that emerge from engaging this powerful subject.
Knowing of my interest, my love monkey Steve just sent me a link to a story about them in one of his favorite blogs, The Dish by Andrew Sullivan, but I cut through to the original story Sullivan was blogging about, a story about a Death Cafe at the top of Beachy Head, a famous suicide cliff in Sussex’s South Downs where I used to live. It’s a fabulous story, so I’ll share the link here… it’s by Claire Davies, published in Aeon Magazine.
I’d love to hear if anyone has experienced a Death Cafe…
Welcome!