Take me to the death cafe

We are living longer and talking about our final days more—as a new movement shows

by Sophie Elmhirst / January 22, 2015 / Leave a comment

The town of Vissoie in the Swiss mountains, where Bernard Crettaz, creator of the “death cafe” movement, was born. © Photoshot

In the middle of the graveyard in Vissoie, a small town in the Swiss mountain valley of Anniviers, stands a grey stone cross. For years, the cross was the focus of a local competition among the town’s teenagers. The brief was simple: turn up at midnight, sit by the cross, and whoever lasts the longest wins. By day, the task doesn’t seem too onerous. The graveyard is absurdly picturesque, perched on the side of a hill next to the church, the valley dropping away to a river, mountains on the far side rising up against a faultless blue sky. Even the graves are palatable: there’s no ornate Victoriana here, no ghoulishness or mawkish angels, no sentimental inscriptions; just a few rows of simple wooden crosses planted in the ground. (A rule was declared in the town that the dead should all be commemorated identically, to prevent wealth-displaying one-upmanship.)

Not long ago, Bernard Crettaz, an eminent Swiss sociologist who was born and raised in Vissoie, sat on a stone wall by the shared grave of his parents—Pierre and Genevieve—and recalled his year of competition. The dare was a test of bravery but also maturity, a coming-of-age ritual, sitting in the pitch dark among the buried bones of your ancestors. Crettaz had stuck it out, and won. He still looked a little proud of the feat. As he remembered the long night, he watched old friends and neighbours as they visited the graves of their families. It was Toussaint, All Saints’ Day, the occasion in the Catholic calendar when the living pay respects to their dead. The graveyard had the air of a cocktail party, cousins greeting each other across the bunches of yellow crysanthemums that had been placed on the tombs. Crettaz, a short, roundish man of 78, eyebrow hair so long and wild that it looked in danger of knitting over his eyes, was now one of the town’s elder statesmen. As he sat by his parents’ grave, the priest came to shake his hand. He was their local celebrity, a sort of Swiss Simon Schama, a popular academic…

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Comments

Jan Sand
January 26, 2015 at 20:51
In a couple of weeks I will be 89 and death is quite much on my mind. But it is not only my own death but the death of the entire world. I have seen enough to indicate where the world might be going in the next few decades and although it is doubtless quite a few bright people have a grasp of what is important and what is not, both those in control and the general mass of humanity do not and what seems to be coming looks very bad indeed. I am not particularly eager to die since I am still in reasonable health but the future is beginning to look like it may be better not to get there.
Carol Gouveia Melo
February 20, 2015 at 10:55
After reading this article, I would like to comment on two of its sentences: - "When we go into the cave, it's the truth" - He told them how he'd felt mistreated and forgave them. "For me that was very important" he said, "Now I am at peace". Death is the ultimate truth for all of us one day. However, looking at the issue from a different perspective, the truth and peace go hand in hand, and are very important in end of life care. Although death is much talked about nowadays, often when death comes too close and becomes intimate, the truth flies out the window. Sometimes, it continues to be difficult for families to acknowledge the imminent death of a loved one in their presence. In some countries, doctors are asked by families not to tell the family member how serious their disease is. Futile curative treatments, such as chemotherapy, are continued until the very end, causing much unnecessary discomfort, just to avoid the truth. Family and friends continue to put on a happy hopeful front when in the presence of the person who is dying, and the sick person will dutifully play along, although he knows full well what the truth is. Although this pattern of behavior is well intentioned, and aimed to avoid the suffering of our loved ones, it does not achieve its goal and people still suffer, but alone. The truth should not be given in a brutal manner, but people should be allowed to have access to the truth at a pace and time comfortable for them. Without the truth, how can we prepare for death, talk to and forgive loved ones or ask for their forgiveness? How can we put our affairs in order? How can we say “goodbye, I love you” to the people that matter most to us? Without access to the truth, dying at peace becomes very difficult. As mentioned in the article, more and more people will die of some advanced and progressive disease, and as a responsible society, we can contribute towards a more peaceful death. Sometimes, it is easier for the sick person, and the family to talk truthfully to someone outside the family. Well trained volunteers or health care workers, who know how to listen, can embrace pain and suffering without that inner discomfort that makes people want to run from the truth. This outside presence may help to bridge the gap between the sick person and their family, creating a truthful closeness between them that both sides long for. Carol Gouveia Melo AMARA-Associação pela Dignidade na Vida e na Morte Portugal