RECENTLY, I was invited to attend a 'Death Café' event at Holohan’s on University Road. It was an experience that left a lasting impression on me.
It took place in a beautiful, quaint and elegant room upstairs in this exclusive Irish gourmet restaurant. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, which, given the evening’s theme of death and dying, felt both unexpected and reassuring.
I arrived promptly at 7pm, as scheduled, and was greeted at the door by Rachel, the facilitator of this evening’s gathering. There was an added layer of intrigue to the evening as it was being filmed for a television programme. The room had been carefully arranged, with a large table around which eleven people were seated – seven women and four men. A small film crew, consisting of two cameramen and a female sound recordist, moved discreetly around the space, capturing the unfolding discussions. The owner of the restaurant, Emir Holohan, was present, ensuring that refreshments were provided throughout the evening.
Despite the gravity of the subject matter, there was no sense of morbidness. In fact, I was struck by how relaxed and open the atmosphere felt. There was no set agenda or script for the evening, just the understanding that we would discuss death and dying. The conversation unfolded organically and it became clear that everyone in the room was willing to share personal thoughts and experiences.
I found myself particularly fascinated by the depth of the conversation and the honesty with which people bared their souls. Death is often considered a taboo subject, yet here we were, speaking about it freely, without fear or hesitation. My own contribution centred on the word 'death' itself, what it means, the emotions it evokes and how different people interpret it. It was moving to hear the diverse perspectives in the room, each one deeply personal yet universally resonant.
As the evening progressed, I realised just how much I was learning, not only about death, but about life itself. I gained an insight into how to be present for those who are dying and, most importantly, how to treat them with dignity and respect in their final moments. The discussion was deeply meaningful and I left with a greater understanding of how to approach the subject of death with compassion and openness.
The conversation lasted for at least an hour and a half, yet time seemed to pass quickly. By the end of the evening, I felt enriched by the discussion and grateful for the opportunity to engage in such an important dialogue. If you ever have the chance to attend a Death Café, I would highly recommend it. There is so much to learn, and it is an experience that challenges and reshapes our perceptions of mortality.
Personally, I would love to see young people attend these events. There is immense value in normalising conversations about death, helping to remove the fear and stigma that so often surrounds it. Before we concluded, the facilitator informed us that these Death Café meetings would become a monthly event.
A heartfelt thank you was given to our gracious hostess, Emir Holohan, whose hospitality made the evening all the more special. It was an unforgettable experience, one that I will carry with me for a long time to come.
