7 Reasons Canadians Should be Talking about Death
Written by Sarah Savoy
Hear from end-of-life doula on the 7 reasons why we should be talking about death.
As an end-of-life doula I think about death and dying, a lot. It takes up a healthy proportion of my daily, conscious brain activity. This is considerably more than the average person who may nary give a whisper of a thought to their mortality at any given time.
The British-American poet W.H. Auden wrote:
“Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic.”
I think this encapsulates our attitudes around death: it’s something we’re aware of, but it’s a far-off, foreboding abstraction, not something we need to deal with now.
There are a lot of benefits in facing the unknown parts of the end of life. Having open conversations about death can actually fuel and inspire living more fully. Making decisions about death can offer security to family and answer questions you might not otherwise ask. I firmly believe we need to normalize discussions around end of life and bring it out of the closet.
Here are seven reasons why we should be talking about death:
You are going to die
Talking about death normalizes it and reduces discomfort
Canada’s overall population is aging and our systems are under strain
We can avert emotional fallout
Not everybody has a built-in support system
Grief starts long before someone dies and can last indefinitely
Talking about death can help us live with more presence
1. You are going to die.
Yes, one day you will die. So will I. So will everybody we know. This may be glaringly obvious, but if so, why is the subject broached with awkwardness, raised eyebrows, deflective jokes, and labeled as depressing or morbid? If it’s going to happen to 100% of us with 100% certainty, we should talk about it.
2. Talking about death normalizes it and reduces discomfort.
This riffs off the first point, but we’re caught in a cycle worth noting. Death is a fraught topic: it’s laden with heavy emotion, uncertainty, and fear; so we sweep it under the carpet. But I argue that it’s unsettling because we don’t talk about it. Bringing it out of the shadows can help assuage the worries and questions we might have about death. It’s like the shy Boo Radley character in the novel, To Kill a Mockingbird: he was feared and misunderstood until he was literally brought into the light and seen for who he truly was.
3. Canada’s overall population is aging and our systems are under strain.
The demographics in this country are undergoing a fundamental shift. With birthrates slowing, boomers ripening into older adulthood, and longer life expectancies (the 85+ age group is one of the fastest growing population segments), we as a society are getting older. Sobering data shows that the demand for long term care beds in Canada is far outpacing the supply. Without access to enough beds, where does that leave us? If we’re to age at home, what does that mean in terms of human caregiving hours and cost? What is the ripple effect when family members are forced to be primary carers because our healthcare system can’t keep up? These are real issues we need to have conversations about sooner better than later.
4. We can avert emotional fallout.
The worst time to be making life-altering decisions is during a crisis when we’re under stress. Yet there are countless stories about families arguing and even fracturing because they can’t agree on what to do about Dad, who’s in a medical crisis and can’t speak for himself. This is precisely why we need to have important conversations with our people before an emergency. When on death’s doorstep, we can’t assume our loved ones will know what we want if we haven’t actually spoken to them about our wishes and preferences beforehand.
5. Not everybody has a built-in support system.
We assume that we’ll have a support network of family and friends as we age. But “solo agers,” seniors who live independently without a partner or children to look after them, are a growing demographic in Canada. Within that group is a subset of “elder orphans,” those who truly lack social connections and live isolated, vulnerable lives. Talking about death forces us to acknowledge this uncomfortable reality; it pushes us to imagine more inclusive societies with broader definitions of chosen family that can meet the needs of this unseen group.
6. Grief starts long before someone dies and can last indefinitely.
Death and grief go hand in hand. When there’s a known trajectory towards death, anticipatory grief, the grief for the impending losses of our future, our dreams, our identity, becomes a constant companion long before someone dies. After a death, grief has no expiry date. Acute grief can be felt for months, and people can live with “subtle grief” for the rest of their lives. This is a huge internal weight that folks shouldn’t have to bear alone; they need to be able to speak safely about their experiences so they can adapt to their new reality. If we can’t break the taboo to talk about death, then we can’t effectively support people in their grief either.
7. Talking about death can help us live with more presence.
Planning for death ultimately involves some degree of self-reflection. When we ponder our finitude and identify what constitutes a “good death”, we inevitably loop back to what it means to live a good life – and what matters most. If you had one month left on earth, what would you do? Is there a dream that is yet to be pursued? Is there something left unsaid or a relationship that needs tending? When we imagine what our final days might look like, something shifts in us; it illuminates the truth of what it means to fully live.
We need to be talking about death. Not deeply or sadly, but introducing it into conversations with family and chats with loved ones. If we can courageously do this, perhaps that sound of distant thunder at our picnic won’t be quite so ominous.
