Every year on 8 August, communities across Australia come together for Dying to Know Day, a national day of action that encourages us all to talk more openly about death, dying, and grief.
That might sound heavy, but Dying to Know Day isn’t about gloom or doom. It’s about life—how we live, how we care for one another, how we make meaning, and how we prepare for one of the few certainties we all share: our mortality.
It’s a day that invites curiosity, not fear, and it can be a powerful catalyst for connection, end-of-life planning, and deeper understanding.
What is Dying to Know Day?
Dying to Know Day (DtKD) began in 2013 as an initiative of The GroundSwell Project, a not-for-profit organisation working to improve how people in Australia die, care, and grieve.
Since then, it’s grown into a grassroots movement of individuals, community groups, end-of-life doulas, aged care workers, funeral professionals, and educators hosting events across the country. Some events are practical, like workshops on understanding advance care planning or funeral options. Others are creative or reflective, such as grief circles, art installations, or community-led memorials.
What they all have in common is an invitation: start the conversation now.
Why death awareness matters
Most of us will face the death of someone significant in our lives, or our own serious illness, at some point. And yet, many people avoid talking about death entirely. It can feel awkward or frightening. Some worry about upsetting others, or they simply don’t know where to begin.
But avoiding these conversations doesn’t make death go away. It just leaves us unprepared.
Without a plan, families are often left making difficult decisions in moments of crisis, unsure of what that person would have wanted. Without conversations, grief can feel even more isolating and overwhelming. Without awareness, we may miss opportunities to access support, say goodbye, or express what matters most.
On the other hand, talking about death can be life-affirming. It allows us to reflect on what truly matters. It helps us live and die with greater clarity, comfort, and connection, not just with the people around us, but with the world we’re part of. Raising death literacy—our ability to understand and make informed decisions about dying, grieving, and care—is a vital part of building compassionate, resilient communities.
The reality of inequality
Yet we must acknowledge that not everyone has equal access to adequate end-of-life care. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples face significantly lower life expectancy and often die far from Country. People in rural areas may face jurisdictional variations in palliative care delivery, while workforce shortages across aged care affect the quality of support. Those without stable housing, family support, or financial resources face additional barriers.
These inequities make open conversations about death even more important; they help us understand what support exists, advocate for better care, and ensure people’s wishes are heard.
What happens on Dying to Know Day?
There’s no single way to mark the day. Events are as diverse as the people and communities hosting them. You might find workshops on advance care directives, writing your will, or understanding end-of-life options. Death Cafés invite people to gather and talk about death over tea and cake, while film screenings paired with panel discussions explore the role of end-of-life doulas.
Some communities host pop-up events in public spaces with information on grief support and funeral planning. Creative activities might include decorating a coffin or writing your own eulogy. Grief circles provide space for people to share stories and honour their losses.
Some events may centre perspectives that are often marginalised in mainstream death discourse, such as Aboriginal support, LGBTQ+ experiences of chosen family and grief, culturally specific mourning practices, and disability justice approaches to end-of-life care.
You don’t have to attend a formal event to participate, though not everyone has the luxury of supportive relationships for these conversations. You might observe Dying to Know Day by having a conversation with your household over dinner, journaling about your wishes, visiting a meaningful place, or setting aside time to explore your beliefs about life and death.
It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about making space for the questions and recognising that the questions themselves are shaped by privilege and access.
Not morbid—meaningful (but complex)
If you’ve never talked about death before, Dying to Know Day might feel like a strange concept, but for many people, it becomes a door that opens into deeper connection. For others, however, it may surface trauma, loss, or systemic injustices that require more than conversation to address.
When we talk about dying, we’re really talking about living—about what we value, who and what we love, how we want to be remembered, and how we want to care for each other. But we’re also talking about power: who gets heard, who gets quality care, whose deaths are grieved, and whose are forgotten.
It doesn’t need to be sombre or spiritual. It doesn’t have to look like anything in particular. You might start by asking a friend what kind of music they want played at their funeral.
You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to begin wherever you are, with whatever resources you have.
Start the conversation
Dying to Know Day is more than just a date on the calendar. It’s a movement for cultural change.
When we open ourselves to talking about death, we’re not only preparing for practical decisions, we’re making space for healing, meaning, and a deeper sense of connection. And we’re also confronting the ways that structural inequalities follow us to the grave.
So why not use this moment to ask a question you’ve been avoiding, or to share something that’s been sitting quietly in your heart? But also consider: what barriers exist for others to have these conversations? How might we work to remove them?
Start a conversation with your partner, your kids, your parents, or your friends. We’re all dying to know. Let’s talk about it.