Death Cafe
3 p.m. Aug. 24.
Free.
Reservations must be made online.
Historic Oakland Cemetery, 248 Oakland Ave. S.E, Atlanta.
http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/419957.
We all know the stereotypical embodiment of death, the grim reaper. But Atlantan Mark LaRocca-Pitts doesn’t see death as a hooded wraith clutching a scythe.
To him it’s an elephant we typically ignore though it walks into all of our rooms.
That’s why LaRocca-Pitts decided to put together a local Death Cafe, a casual monthly gathering where folks chat about mortality-related subjects in between bites of cake and swigs of java. The main goal is to discuss this taboo topic in a way that turns the fear on its ear.
“It’s not a morbid place,” he said. “The goal of Death Cafe is to help people come to terms with death and deal with their fears in order (that) they might live life more fully. If we can come to terms with our own death and our own mortality, we find ourselves being able to live fuller and happier lives. That’s the only agenda.”
Death Cafe Atlanta has been operating since the spring. Its fifth event is on tap for later this month — appropriately, in the visitor’s tower of Oakland cemetery, which overlooks rows of marble monuments and aged tombstones. The room’s brick walls may be distressed, but according to LaRocca-Pitts, the guests aren’t.
You often hear both laughter and deep discussion when 30 to 35 people delve into topics from euthanasia and life after death to preparing your own will and how not to be an elderly burden to children.
LaRocca-Pitts, who works as a chaplain for Crossroads Hospice, is no stranger to the subject. He began noticing many people were ill prepared when it came to making decisions regarding end-of-life scenarios. LaRocca-Pitts saw a solution when he heard about what Death Cafe founder John Underwood was doing in England.
Underwood popularized the concept through his website and social franchising. To become a sanctioned Death Cafe, use its logo and be listed on Underwood’s website, you must adhere to four principles. It must be nonprofit. There should be no intention of leading participants to any particular conclusion, product or action. The Death Cafe must take place in a confidential space free of discrimination. And, it has to be done with refreshing drinks and food.
The idea is that talking about death goes better with coffee and cake.
LaRocca-Pitts agreed and was ready to bring the event to life as the first Death Cafe in the Southeast. He received a grant from Crossroads Hospice Charitable Foundation to help pay for food and Oakland’s rental, and he enlisted three friends (Bob Duvall, Kate Hauk and David Hall), each experienced chaplains. They work as hosts, not discussion leaders, serving the coffee, cake and finger foods, and facilitating a topic if the conversation slows.
Each meeting follows an agenda: The folks gather and LaRocca-Pitts and the others give a Cliff’s Notes version of the concept, its principles and history. “We might ask guests questions like ‘What brought you here?’ to get conversations going,” LaRocca-Pitts said. Then the attendees break into groups of four or five, which get cracking about croaking, taking the topic wherever it leads them.
Although LaRocca-Pitts is quick to point out that Death Cafe isn’t a grief or bereavement support group, visitors occasionally show up in the throes of intense grief. The hosts usually pull those people aside and point them to the the appropriate resources and contacts.
Death Cafe participants are typically those interested in discussing the topic for some particular reason. A recent guest talked about how she made a family activity out of writing an obituary and how much fun it was.
“We have a lot of guests who have survived various forms of cancer,” LaRocca-Pitts said. “They, of course, often have very interesting stories … I’m also connected in my church with a large LGBT community, and that community is very present. And sometimes with that contingent, issues of HIV/AIDS and suicide pop up, and we’ll talk about that.”
LaRocca-Pitts said he finds that once the chatter gets rolling, it can be difficult to stop. So at the end of the event they have a ritual to help transition back into real life.
They sing a rendition of “Happy Trails” by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.
