Can we make death better?

Photo by Aron Visuals

The other day, I was reading comments from people who have had near-death experiences. Surprisingly, this proximity to death seemed to give many of them a sense of calm and acceptance about when their time truly comes. Several reported feelings of euphoria or described a kind of spiritual awakening. Some theorize that the body releases natural DMT when we are close to death, which could help explain the vivid visions and sensations people often describe. While the idea of endogenous DMT release remains debated and not conclusively proven in humans, the consistency of near-death reports across cultures suggests that the brain may have mechanisms for easing the transition at life’s end—whether neurochemical, psychological, or both.

Death is a truly universal human experience, and no matter what we do to try to avoid it, eventually it comes for us. Yet we tend to be deeply uncomfortable discussing it—especially in Western culture—and we tend to fear it as well.

What is it that we fear exactly? The unknown? The ending of our lives? The possibility that we have not lived as fully as we hoped? Pain?

How can we confront death in a way that causes us less suffering?

Even for those with religious faith, much about death remains unknown. Some may approach this uncertainty with curiosity, but fear and anxiety are common responses. We cannot control death, and we certainly cannot control what comes after—if anything does. While some religious doctrines promise a better outcome for those who follow certain rules, no one truly comes back to explain what happens next. On some level, it is all theory. We cannot confirm or verify it.

The idea that we will no longer exist can also be terrifying. Once we are gone, will we be remembered? Or will we eventually vanish as though we were never here at all? What was the purpose of our lives? What if we leave nothing behind? We fear meaninglessness—that our lives might not have mattered. That we worked, worried, and endured, only to vanish.

Beyond the spiritual and psychological concerns, many of us—even if we can accept our eventual death—fear the pain and suffering that might accompany it. Many people hope to pass away in their sleep for that very reason, even if it means not getting the chance to say goodbye. Worse still is the fear of being alone at the end.

We spend our entire lives trying not to die—even as bad drivers and bacteria seem determined to interfere.

So how do we make the process better?

Certainly not by pretending death will not happen, or by insisting it is painless, or by denying grief. Perhaps the first step is simply talking about it—openly and honestly—rather than avoiding it altogether.

In Mexican culture, for example, Día de Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, is marked each year by a vibrant celebration honoring those who have passed and helping guide them on their spiritual journey. This tradition, which dates back roughly 3,000 years, reminds the living that death does not have to be viewed solely through the lens of fear and sorrow, but as a natural part of the cycle of life.

And it is. So we should plan for it.

We should be able to openly discuss our preferences around life support, pain management, dignity, and what we want to happen in the immediate aftermath of death. Sharing these wishes can spare our families the burden of making impossible decisions without guidance.

We should focus on care—palliative care, hospice care, and emotional support. That includes better food, beautiful environments connected to nature rather than sterile hospital rooms, and access to art, music, and other sources of comfort that can improve quality of life in our final moments, days, or months. Whatever we’ve got left. We should enjoy whatever beauty of life we can while we are still here.

There are end-of-life doulas trained to support individuals and families emotionally, spiritually, and practically during the dying process. Organizations such as the No One Should Die Alone Foundation recruit and train volunteers to ensure that people who lack family or social support do not die in isolation.

There are also Death Cafés—informal gatherings where people come together over food or tea to talk openly about death, dying, grief, and mortality. Their goal is to normalize conversations about death, reduce taboo, and foster community.

As time goes on, we will likely develop better tools for managing pain and anxiety—perhaps even using psychedelics in carefully controlled settings. But a crucial part of improving how we experience death, and how we cope with the loss of loved ones, begins with something simpler: normalizing honest conversations about death itself. Even though it is deeply uncomfortable.

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