I think about death pretty often these days. How I will die, and what kind of legacy I'll leave behind. I used to rarely think of death, and always thought it would be old age that gets me, but lately I don't feel that same garuntee. Maybe it's survivors guilt, but I just don't feel safe about how long we have on earth anymore. Going to the Death Cafe helped me realize I'm not alone in my morbid thoughts.
I cried. I laughed. It challenged a few of my ideals around our justice system, life after death and planning for death. We talked about a good death versus a bad death. We heard from someone who had a near death experience. We talked about suicide. The ages ranged from seventy six, to sixteen. Without betraying the confidentiality of the other people there and their openness to share, I can tell you I felt a sense of closeness and acceptance. Peaceful acceptance if you will.
I bought the guy's book, so call me a sucker if you want, but he wrote inside, "your gentle heart is such a gift". And if that's true, I believe it was a gift I inherited.