There comes a time in life when speaking openly about what we usually avoid can bring not sorrow, but a quiet sense of peace, writes Udai Mathur
There is a subject many of us prefer not to mention, as though giving it a name might make it arrive sooner. That subject is death. For generations in India, it has been spoken of in whispers, softened by euphemisms, or not spoken of at all. Yet, in recent years, across the world and now here too, a quiet but thoughtful movement has emerged: the idea of death positivity.
At its heart lies a simple truth. Death is not a defeat, nor a shame, nor something to hide from. It is an inevitable stage of the journey, as natural as birth, growth, and ageing. To acknowledge it is not to welcome it before its time, but to approach it with openness, dignity, and calm.
What it means
Death positivity does not glorify death, nor does it suggest rushing towards it. Instead, it invites us to accept it as part of the great cycle of existence. Just as we celebrate new life and cherish our youth and maturity, so too can we prepare ourselves gently for life’s closing chapter.
It encourages us to speak with our loved ones about matters we often avoid: our wishes for medical care, the kind of farewell we would like, or how we would like our belongings and memories to be passed on. These conversations, though delicate, are acts of love. They spare our families uncertainty in difficult moments and ensure that our own choices are respected.
Death positivity also transforms how we think of grief. Rather than treating mourning as something to be hurried through, it honours it as a personal and lasting journey. By speaking about it, we allow ourselves and others the chance to heal more fully.
In truth, this movement is less about death than it is about life. By acknowledging our mortality, we remind ourselves to live more deeply and with greater gratitude.
The benefits of acceptance
For many, bringing this subject into the open feels like lifting a burden. Fear thrives in silence, but fades when spoken of kindly and clearly. Some of the gifts of acceptance include:
- Clarity: When our wishes are known, families are not left anxious or divided when decisions must be made.
- A richer appreciation of life: Recognising life’s fragility makes everyday moments sweeter—a walk under the trees, laughter with grandchildren, or a quiet cup of tea at dawn.
- Closer bonds: Families who speak of such matters often grow more united. These conversations become gifts of clarity, rooted in love.
- Gentler grieving: When loved ones know they honoured our wishes, they find comfort in their loss.
- Dignity and control: Awareness of our choices in end-of-life care allows us to leave with peace and self-respect.
Far from being gloomy, this way of thinking frees us from needless fear. It opens the door to a more intentional, joyful life.
What it looks like in practice
Death positivity is not a doctrine but a perspective, lived differently by each person. For some, it means writing a simple will. For others, it may be keeping important documents in one place for children to find, or speaking openly during a Sunday meal about what sort of farewell they would prefer.
Some choose to write letters for their families, to be read later. Others plant trees or prepare memory boxes as legacies of love. In cities, one can even find death cafés—informal gatherings over tea and snacks, where people share thoughts about life and its inevitable close.
Even our rituals, whether rooted in faith, philosophy, or personal choice, take on deeper meaning when we embrace them with understanding. A prayer, a hymn, or a mantra can be more consoling when chosen consciously.
Above all, the essence of this movement lies in openness: a willingness to speak, to plan, and to reflect.
A cultural shift
Many of us grew up in households where death was spoken of in hushed tones. Words like “gone” or “passed away” softened its edge, but the silence often left families unprepared. Moving towards a more open view does not mean turning away from our traditions. On the contrary, it often enriches them. Rituals become more personal, grief less isolating, and remembrance more meaningful.
To ask, “What would I want at the end?” is not morbid. It is compassionate—to oneself and to one’s family. It is a question rooted in courage and love.
A final reflection
At first, the very idea of being “positive” about death may seem unsettling. But to acknowledge its certainty is not to give in to it, nor to lose hope. It is to recognise that life is precious precisely because it is finite.
When we accept death as part of the natural order, we are free to live with less fear and more tenderness. We can focus on what truly matters: the laughter of our grandchildren, the friendships that sustain us, the rituals and prayers that give us strength, and the small daily joys that weave the fabric of our days.
As the old saying reminds us: death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it. When we embrace that truth, we discover that death positivity is, in its deepest sense, life positivity.
