What Comes with Time

I recently turned 30. Apparently, that’s a big milestone that redefines you. Perhaps oddly, I felt relatively relaxed about it. Bizarrely, more so than when I turned 29. Maybe I spent the last year coming into acceptance. Finding my groove, getting to know myself better, doing things that feel good. That’s the trick, I think.

Turning 30, I noticed especially in my friends a quiet dread, mixed with a little fear. A marker of things that haven’t happened yet. Of not quite being where they thought they would be by now.

As I grow, change, age… so does everything around me.

I find it strange sometimes, visiting my hometown. I routinely go back over my birthday, an annual pilgrimage of sorts. But the longer I’ve lived away, the more removed I feel from it. My last visit home hit differently.

I recently lost a friend. She was 28.

Loss and the Unexpected

We grew into adults together, the best bad influence a teen girl could have. She was hungry for life. She wanted to know everyone, be part of everything. I know deep in my bones we would have seen each other on my trip home this year. She had only recently moved back to the UK. 

My last message to her exclaimed, “I hear you’re back?!”

A message never opened. Not ignored. She’d already gone.

And suddenly, 30 feels less like a milestone and more like a privilege.

Parts of me have struggled with the acceptance of her leaving. We already had distance between us, making the reality softer in some ways. In others, I feel like when I cry, I cry too hard. When I don’t, I feel bunged up and lacking feeling.

Most of my emotions are tied up in empathy for her family and partner. It was sudden. Unexpected.

But that is life and death – full of the unexpected, even alongside the certainties we are promised. 

Let’s talk about it

We live in a culture where we’re somewhat stunted around death. We tend to deal with it directly only when it stares us in the face and says, ‘here I am’. The older I grow, the more I want to move away from that. 

Not away from death itself, but from treating it as something separate from life. Life and death are an equal promise. I want to move away from only talking about it when we have no choice. Because perhaps talking about death can actually help us talk more openly about life.

What matters to us? Who do we want around us? What do we want to do with the time we have? What does a good life actually look like? What does a good death look like?

Where to start

I chose to share this with you now, perhaps while it’s still a little too raw, because the timing felt too aligned not to. As I prepared to write about The Dead Curious Cafe and its return in September, I found out about my friend. 

Over the years that Tribe has worked with Loretta, I’ve supported and felt strongly about The Dead Curious Cafe, and yet I’d never been along myself. Let’s be honest, on the surface it’s a hard sell! But finding out about my friend made me think differently about my own experience, and about the conversations and thoughts we so often put off.

We wanted to take a moment to re-invite you along, and to highlight that the sessions aren’t solely about personal experiences of grief or loss. They’re deliberately broader, often drawing on philosophical thinking, societal constructs and the different ways we understand and talk about death, as well as our own personal experiences.

We’ve brought together some words from people who have attended The Dead Curious Cafe, to share with you here. 

What Is the Dead Curious Cafe Like?

“The Dead Curious Cafe was a beautiful and welcoming mixture of people. Some of the participants had been in the group for a while, but there was no awkwardness around that. Loretta has such a gift for holding a warm and open space, setting everyone at ease, and letting the conversation flow while tending gently to its direction. 

I went along because I was keen to explore and get closer to themes of life and death in a supportive space. In my early 30s, I am starting to sense time’s passing a bit more heavily, and I notice the same feeling among my friends. I guess I was motivated partly by seeing my parents ageing and holding a growing anxiety about that – both mine and theirs. 

Dead Curious created room for everything: relating to each other, sharing perspectives, and supporting folks who were experiencing something hard. Some of the stories that people told were really moving, and I still hold on to a few insights that landed with me especially clearly. I look forward to joining again.”

 

“The name Dead Curious Cafe piqued my interest from the start. I went along with an open mind, not knowing I’d become a regular member and still be going along over a year later!

The group gives space to talk about death from all different angles, both philosophical and/or personal; helped by the fact that anyone is welcome to attend – both regulars and newcomers. I love the eclectic mix of people who come along and share their views and stories. And that some days you may want to just listen and not speak and that is okay too.”

“Loretta expertly keeps us all safe, accepts us as we are and makes sure we feel seen and heard. For me, it has been a really helpful way to integrate my own loss while enjoying learning, connecting with others and experiencing a sense of community, all within the safe boundaries of a group set up”

“I started attending some of the Dead Curious sessions after my mother passed alongside the awareness of my own vulnerability and aging, and how it all relates to my remaining family.

I have found the sessions helpful in reflecting on and considering a variety of death/loss related issues for myself, often through the understanding of others’ sense of how they have been affected, how it’s related to others in their lives, and what they believe. It’s been useful, if hard at times, to remain open to what everyone is saying. It has also been enlightening to understand the perceptions and insights different people can offer and what might work for others alongside what is useful for me.”

 

More about the Dead Curious Cafe

The Dead Curious Cafe began at Tribe Porty two years ago, hosted by Loretta Dunn. It explores death as a teacher for living a meaningful life. By opening up conversations about death, we can reflect on what matters most in life.

There’s also space to share personal experiences of loss in a safe, supportive environment. This isn’t therapy or counselling, but many people have found it valuable to talk and listen.

The cafe is open to everyone. Whether you’re curious, have questions, want to share a story, or simply want to sit with the subject for a while.

Monthly sessions: Thursdays, 6:30–8pm, booked through Eventbrite on a pay-what-you-can basis (suggested £5). You’re also welcome to simply turn up.

Upcoming dates: 10th September, 8th October and 10th December.

Next topic: The Future of Death in an AI Society.  Click here for more details and to book your spot.

As always we’d love to connect and hear your thoughts, let us know what you think and what you want to see more of at Tribe Porty. You can read our latest Annual Report here.