Your campus?
Open to colleges and universities across Southern California for the 2026–27 academic year.
Connect to learn more livingroomcoll@gmail.com
For young adults, by young adults
Everyone in the room will die someday. It's the most universal human condition there is, and it almost never comes up on a college campus.
The Living Room Collective draws from the global Death Café movement to bring that conversation to students. Mortality is our way in. Once a room of peers starts there, the usual script of majors, internships and who-knows-who tends to fall away. What opens up is honest, raw dialogue, and the kind of connection that's hard to find between classes, club meetings and recruiting season.
No experts at the front of the room. The conversation belongs to the people in it.
We gather in small groups, with question cards to get things moving.
We don't steer toward a conclusion, and anyone can pass.
Every gathering is shaped with the campus community hosting it, around what they hope it holds for their students. It isn't therapy or a lecture. It's a space to sit with peers in the deeply human questions we all share.
“Still not something I can describe, but it helped me to talk about it.”
A death café is an open conversation about death over something to eat and drink. It has no agenda and no conclusions to reach. It is not grief counseling or therapy. Learn more about death cafés ↗
I graduated high school in 2020, the infamous COVID year. I took a gap year, and through it, felt the weight of our changing world and my position within it: What is my responsibility in this crazy world? What is my good life? How do I make the most of college?
Entering college, I explored all sorts of academic and professional routes and meandered through the wide-ranging social scenes. I traveled solo, switched majors more than once, and somewhere along the way ended up studying death, specifically:
What does it mean to die well?
For my senior thesis, I interviewed death doulas, the non-medical companions who fill the gaps in end-of-life care and help people die with more comfort and dignity. I also talked with the professionals working alongside them and across the wider end-of-life world.
I expected studying death to feel heavy, and some days it did. But I was spending more time with mortality than most people my age, and I had never felt more content, joyful, or honest. Once death was on the table, the small talk fell away and people said what they actually meant.
My friends felt it too. Whenever my research came up, they leaned in, asked their own questions, and wanted to keep talking. Then I went to my first death café, and I didn't know I needed that room until I was sitting in it. I loved everything about it, except that I was the only person there under 30. So I started hosting death cafés on campus.
Now, through The Living Room Collective, I'm bringing that room to more young adults.
Duke '25, Psychology · INELDA-trained death doula · Senior thesis: 67 interviews with death doulas
The Living Room Death Café Tour
Open to colleges and universities across Southern California for the 2026–27 academic year.
Connect to learn more livingroomcoll@gmail.comGroups of five or six with a conversation facilitator. Free-flowing dialogue with very little structure.
Each table welcomed one topic, and people sat where they wanted to talk: personal experiences with loss, religion and the afterlife, or simply why they came.
Attendees worked through a deck of cards with questions about death, mortality, and living and dying well.
How do you treat your own death when you don't have a religious belief to rely on?
Still not something I can describe, but it helped me to talk about it.
Definitely didn't come out with an answer. If anything I have more questions!
Quotes come from anonymous post-event surveys and are shared with consent.