SCOTTISH society has become increasingly divorced from the realities of death, making it harder for those facing up to their own mortality – and for those who are grieving – to get adequate support, according to a charity which is calling for more openness about dying and bereavement.

Good Life, Good Death, Good Grief – an alliance of charities, organisations and individuals coordinated by the Scottish Partnership for Palliative Care – claims that modern generations of Scots have grown-up expecting every aspect of dying to be taken care of by professionals. It aims to re-equip them with practical and emotional skills to cope with the end of life.

This week the organisation is marking Good Death Week, with events, often run by volunteers passionate about creating more open dialogue about death, taking place across Scotland. They include “death cafes”, where people can meet in an informal setting to explore their thoughts on dying, discussions, talks and tours.

Glasgow and Edinburgh screenings of Dead Good – Rehana Rose’s documentary about a group of women in Brighton helping the bereaved to be involved with the preparation of their loved one’s body and create bespoke funeral arrangements – have also been programmed.

Rebecca Patterson, director of Good Life, Good Death, Good Grief, said: “People are in different places and have different circumstances. But this is about providing an opportunity for people who want to know more to talk about it.”

The aim of the week is partly to get people talking more openly but also to encourage people to plan ahead. “That might be about appointing someone who has power of attorney so that people don’t get suck in hospital if they are no longer able to make their own decisions,” said Patterson. “We have an ageing population and it’s important they tell family what they want to happen so they don’t have to guess.”

Recent stats show that about 60% of Scots die without making a will, leaving potential for family conflict or financial and legal complications. Most do not plan either for average funeral costs of £4000. Around 56,000 people die annually in Scotland and as many as 46,000 people will need care for a deteriorating health for years, months or weeks before they die. Patterson claims the stats underline the importance of thinking ahead.

The week also picks up on the themes of the charity’s Absent Friends festival in October, providing a more celebratory chance for people to remember and grieve loved ones more openly. While in countries like Mexico loved ones who have died are still considered to have a presence – and celebrated in colourful and highly visible festivals such as Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) – in Scotland many shy away from addressing loss publicly, added Patterson.

“In some ways death is everywhere from art to Game of Thrones and Eastenders but when it comes to our own lives it can seem inappropriate to talk about,” she added, noting that she often heard from people that someone crossed the road to avoid them after a death. “It’s not that they don’t care, but more that they don’t know what to say,” she said.

A “good” death is a very individual thing, according to Patterson. While some might want to die at home surrounded by family and friends, others might prioritise well managed pain relief in hospital. But as in the case of births, death planning can help empower people to make the best

choices open to them at the time.

It can also mean families can confidently enact the wishes of their loved one, perhaps gaining comfort or peace of mind from the sense that they are doing what they intended, according to Patterson. “In modern life we don’t really have much experience of death being visible in society but 100 years ago that would have been very different,” she added. “I think a lot of people would like to support people in their community better.”

In response the organisation is launching a new community project – Truacanta (Gaelic for compassionate) – which will provide funding and support to help communities put in place supportive schemes for those who are dying or grieving.

Ideas include replicating models such a No-one Dies Alone, a volunteer network of people in Inverclyde who will sit with people in homes, hospitals or hospices as they near the end. Others have put together visiting services to provide emotional and social support for those who have been bereaved.

The project hopes to find creative ways of recognising the role of friends and neighbours at the end of someone’s life. It is seeking proposals and expects to get started in the autumn.

Lara Celini, pictured below, left, became a human celebrant from Edinburgh after one of her closest friends died 11 years ago, and recognises the importance of finding opportunities for a more open attitude to death.

“My friend and I had spent a wonderful Hogmanay together and I had gone back to Edinburgh to work while she stayed up north with her boyfriend,” she said. “She went out for a walk and got lost in the snow.”

Tragically she had already died of hypothermia when the mountain rescue services found her. “She was just in her forties and in good health,” she said. “We had plans to see each other the next week.” It made Celini realise not only how precious life was, and the importance of living it to the full, but how uncertain it was. It underlined to her the importance of having some plans in place.

“I see that now in my work as a celebrant,” she added. “It can ease the burden on families or even, in the worst case scenarios, put a stop to arguments if decisions have already been taken in advance.

“Another friend got a terminal diagnosis in 2017 and about eight months before she died she asked me if I would conduct her funeral. We organised a Burn’s

Supper in October when her brother was over from Australia and celebrated in the hospice.”

It helped, she said, for her friend to feel able to be open about it.

She believes that others would often like to talk more openly about death, but shy away from the subject. Passionate about providing more opportunities to sensitively explore the subject, she is putting on a “death cafe” in Edinburgh allowing people to explore their own experiences and philosophies over tea and cake.

“It’s really about creating a space for those who want to talk,” she said. “When else do you get that opportunity? I think openness is massively important because really there’s no avoiding it. If death hasn’t already affected us it will. We are all going to die, to have people close to us die. It’s better to talk about it.”

Hilary Peppiette, pictured below, right, a solicitor specialising in wills, powers of attorney and elderly client care, agrees. She trained as an end of life doula a few years ago, allowing her to offer a special – and supportive – service to clients in their final days.

With training in dementia care, bereavement counselling and experience as a care assistant, she felt that the role was a natural fit. “I’ve helped people on their own to move houses, or registered deaths or arranged funerals as a solicitor,” she said. “I never suspected that I would have taken this direction when I did my traineeship but it came to me so naturally.

“A lot of people seem to think it just won’t happen to them so that’s why events like Good Death Week are so great. This year lots of the events are selling out, which is wonderful. It makes it ok to talk about death.”

In terms of the death doula role, she believe that the public is still “in the early stages of awareness” but compares the role to that of a birthing doula, there to offer support, advocacy and gentle guidance in whatever way is wanted and appropriate.

Their role is to help those who are dying – as well as their families – feel safe and supported in their final days and hours. “It might be sitting with someone while the family take a break to make sure they are not alone, it might be reading to them, or even praying if that is wanted. But it might just be making the tea or personal care, if that is required,” she said. “You are there to fill in the gaps. “I’ve seen members of my family die and I know it could have been better. My mum had an ok death at home. But after she died I regret that it was so rushed. I wish that I had sat with her longer, that I’d washed and dressed her and brushed her hair. I’m sad that part wasn’t quieter, more gentle.

“I remember when I went to see my brother in the funeral home and he didn’t look like him. That’s part of my role as a doula. It’s ok to say what you want.” It can be easy to defer to authorities and funeral directors with strong ideas about what is expected, she added.

Her role is to offer a sense of peace. “It’s such a privilege to be with someone at the end of life,” she said. “We’re not going to be less frightened by not talking about it. It happens and it’s better to be prepared.”