CAROLINE SAVOIE | Staff Writer
CarolineLSavoie@gmail.com
On a quiet evening at Union Coffee in Oak Lawn, a group of individuals gathers in a circle, each with a different story but a shared desire to talk about one of life’s most taboo topics: death.
For more than a year now, Britna Savarese has held these Death Café meetings in Dallas, bringing people together to explore their feelings, fears and plans about the end of their lives. Savarese, a 50-year-old death doula, holds space for all types of humans, but she said her work is particularly meaningful for members of the LGBTQ community.
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Death Café
Date: Saturday, Jan. 11
Time: 1-3 p.m.
Location: Union Coffee,
3705 Cedar Springs Road
Tickets: Reserve your seat today
at DallasDeathDoula.com
Attendees will enjoy complimentary beverages, charcuterie and cake, with
plenty of opportunities to laugh, learn and take control of their future.
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Savarese, a pansexual woman, said that for many queer people, the prospect of death comes with layers of complexities beyond the norm. From navigating strained family relationships to ensuring that gender identity is respected in death as it was in life, LGBTQ individuals face unique challenges that demand careful planning and compassionate support.
Death doulas like Savarese provide exactly that — guidance and advocacy to ensure that the dying process honors who a person truly is.
Hart Parris, a 75-year-old Paris, Texas, native and regular Death Café attendee, explained how valuable these gatherings are for those facing death or dealing with the death of a loved one. Diagnosed with terminal stage four metastatic melanoma five years ago, Parris recalls her uncertainty about how to prepare.
“When I went to my first Death Cafe, I went in with the idea that I wouldn’t be here long,” Parris said. “I didn’t even know what end-of-life planning was. But coming to these meetings gave me peace and understanding.”
For Parris, the support she’s received from Britna goes beyond logistics; it’s been emotional and spiritual. Parris said that currently, she is the only person who attends Death Café who is terminally ill or “on the path.”
“It’s not just about getting your paperwork together,” she said. “Britna creates a space where you can truly express yourself. My journey is unique, and being witnessed in that is so important.”
Parris said that, through talking with younger Death Café attendees, she’s better equipped to understand how her own children are experiencing her mortality.
“I get to learn about their angst and their sadness,” Parris said. “As I’m pretty comfortable with the idea of dying, I get to calm them a bit.”
Savarese is holding an end-of-life planning workshop on Jan. 11 at 1 p.m. at Union Coffee on Cedar Springs Road, and Parris said she is eager to attend.
“I have three children and three grandchildren, and I don’t want to dump some difficult, tedious tasks on them when I go,” Parris said. “I want it to be a celebration, and that requires planning.”
Savarese said her workshop will show the different options for end-of-life care, explain legal documents people may need and provide strategies for communicating your wishes to their loved ones.
With Savarese’s guidance, Parris has opened up conversations about how she’d like to be celebrated. She intends on donating her body to science, and she’s compiled a list of 100 songs that her son is meant to play at her wake.
Featuring tracks like Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness” and Coldplay’s “All My Love,” Parris said the playlist encapsulates her life.
“I want people to celebrate my soul and my being and my faults and my screw ups and how many times I got back up,” she said. “All of these songs tell that story.”
Parris said that Savarese has been an advocate and a guide on her journey.
“She absolutely refuses to acknowledge her value, what a beacon she’s been for me,” Parris said of Savarese. “She’s so warm, knowledgeable and precise. To have a friend who is all of those things, someone you can trust with your heart and your checkbook — that’s rare. Everyone should have a death doula.”
The importance of such advocacy is magnified for LGBTQ people, especially when it comes to honoring identity in death. Armand Castilleja, a 31-year-old nonbinary and pansexual Dallas resident, said they felt a weight lifted after attending the Death Café and meeting Savarese.
“I experienced so much grief and loss growing up, and Britna gave me a space to talk about grief in a way that wasn’t just sad,” they said. “I wanted to be vulnerable and experience the love on the other side of grief. It was nice to talk about my own death and mortality. Being able to talk about their ideas around funerals and wills in a way that isn’t so morbid is healing.”
Castilleja said that they want to be buried very minimally and returned to the Earth, perhaps in a mushroom wrap. They said that Savarese encouraged them to talk to family members about what they want when they die.
Savarese said that for LGBTQ people, who may have strained relationships with biological family or are estranged from that family, making sure that their chosen family can step in during the end-of-life process is critical. A death doula like Savarese plays a vital role in advocating for these wishes, ensuring that the individual’s identity, desires and connections are respected, even in the face of opposition.
“I’ve already started having conversations with my loved ones about what I want and what they want,” Castilleja said. “It’s healing to talk about death in a way that isn’t wrapped up in fear, and Britna brings a community together to do that.”
For Katie Newsome, executive director of Union Coffee and former ICU chaplain, the Death Café space Britna cultivates goes beyond support; it’s about empowerment, especially for marginalized communities like LGBTQ individuals.
“These gatherings create a space for people to have their voices heard in life and in death,” she said. “As an ICU chaplain, I’ve seen the consequences of people not having plans in place. It can lead to painful situations where a person’s identity or wishes are not honored, especially in LGBTQ cases where families might not fully accept who someone is.”
Newsome said her experiences reflect the struggles many queer people face when family members or healthcare professionals overlook or misrepresent their gender, relationships or values in the final stages of life. Through Death Café, Newsome said, Savarese is creating a haven where LGBTQ attendees can discuss these fears and develop plans that align with their true selves.
Linda Tucker, a 77-year-old Dallas resident and long-time volunteer at Oak Lawn Methodist Church, attended her first meeting in search of clarity.
“Having a death doula has been such a gift,” Tucker said. “Britna’s work ensures that we can face death bravely and with less anxiety.”
Trerrell Johnson, a 32-year-old gay bakery owner and friend of Savarese’s, said he provides pastries for the Death Cafés. As an LGBTQ person himself, he said he appreciates how these conversations have transformed his view of death.
“We need to reclaim death as part of life, and for the LGBTQ community, that includes making sure our stories, our identities and our relationships are respected,” he said. “Britna is giving people the tools and the support they need to do that.”
Johnson’s reflections touch on a key aspect of why Savarese says death doulas are so vital for queer people. They advocate for the person when they can no longer speak for themselves, ensuring that legal and medical systems — which often default to family of origin or outdated gender markers — don’t erase someone’s identity or misrepresent their wishes. The Death Café is just one space where these conversations start, but Savarese’s role as a death doula ensures that they carry through to the end.
For Savarese, the work is personal. She said her involvement in helping people prepare for death and grief isn’t just about paperwork; it’s about holding space for the people who are often left out of the conversation.
“This work matters for everyone, but especially for LGBTQ folks,” she said. “Our community needs to know that there are people out there who will make sure they are seen, loved and respected, right up to the end.”
In a world where conversations about death are often avoided, especially in marginalized communities, death doulas like Savarese are changing the narrative. By offering compassionate support and practical planning, Savarese said death doulas offer the critical support necessary to ensure that both straight and LGBTQ individuals leave this world with dignity and confidence on their own terms — fully seen and fully loved.