03/15/2026
We all have the capacity to increase death literacy.
The conversation started with a car sale on Facebook Marketplace.
Within a few minutes, we were talking about death.
I was sitting at an airport bar during a layover for a girls’ trip when the man next to me—who looked to be in his mid-60s—started chatting about which credit card he might use to pay his tab.
Then he told me about the man who bought his car.
“I just sold a car on Facebook Marketplace. The guy who bought it was widowed two months ago. He told me all about how his wife, who had cancer, spent the last few months of her life getting things in order.”
The man at the bar continued, “He said she thought of everything. He even started crying while we were talking and saying how grateful he was that she had taken care of him like that.”
I turned my chair toward this man, who had just spontaneously shared this story with me, and said, “Wow. You must have been a bit surprised that selling your car turned into that moving of a moment.”
We introduced ourselves (his name is Dan) and kept talking.
Dan shared that he was deeply moved by the moment and ended up giving the car buyer a hug by the end of their conversation.
He then said something that caught my attention: he had never really considered what would happen if his own wife died.
“Honestly, she just can’t die before me—I need her too much.”
After acknowledging how much he loves his wife, I asked, “In what specific ways do you need her?”
He immediately went to practical things.
She pays all the bills.
She keeps track of their retirement investments.
She knows how to operate the TV.
She remembers everyone’s birthdays.
She keeps track of his health appointments.
She does all the cooking, and he can barely make hot dogs.
Let me pause here to acknowledge the load that this wife—and many women—are carrying for their spouses.
I then asked him gently, “You brought up the widower who bought the car to a stranger. I wonder why?”
He laughed awkwardly and joked that he had no plans for any wrongdoing toward his wife—but he was terrified about what would happen if she died. He doesn’t know how to navigate all of these accounts, relationships, and, in general, life.
I encouraged him to ask his wife to write things down for him. I also explored with him what information he might hold that his wife may not know.
Dan shared that their snowblower is too hard for his wife to start. He’s now considering getting one with an electric start so she won’t need as much force to use it. He also noted that he maintains the lawn and the cars and should probably pass along that knowledge.
With his permission, I texted Dan a few resources—including The Death Deck products, an advance directive form, Compassion & Choices’ Dementia Values and Priorities Tool, and Death Project Manager’s Mortality Workbook.
I had to catch my plane, and as I stood up to leave, he stopped me to give me a hug.
“I don’t know how this happened,” he said, “but you just gave me the kick in the butt I needed to take care of this. I’ve been thinking about that conversation for two months and didn’t know what to do about it.”
How Death Literacy Spreads
This was a twenty-minute conversation.
In an airport.
One human talking to another.
There are so many opportunities to educate, support, and encourage conversations about end-of-life topics. It starts with being open to human encounters—which often means taking off your headphones, looking up from your phone, and maybe even smiling at strangers.
We all have the capacity to increase death literacy.
And sometimes it begins with a single conversation.
Dan admitted he had never really considered death before. Yet a random Facebook Marketplace story had been sitting with him for two months, quietly shaping the way he thought about his future.
How many people has the man who bought the car talked to about the gift his wife gave him through preparation?
It clearly stayed with Dan.
And now Dan will likely carry that story into other conversations.
This is how death literacy spreads.
One story.
One conversation.
One moment between strangers.
Be brave.
Be open.
Strike up the conversation.
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