Here’s some truth. As the Flaming Lips sang in 2002, “everyone you know some day will die”.

Some before you and some after you. The Dalai Lama and Taylor Swift, family members, your friends, work colleagues, your kids, your pet; not a living being will be spared.

But for various reasons, talking about death is taboo.

Maybe because what follows is unknown.

What is known is that most of us move in this world as though death is something that happens to others, especially older people. Death happens to other people in other places, and most often it is depicted as a tragedy.

But, of course, death is happening all around us, every day.

The last census tells us that in 2022 there were almost 191,000 deaths across our nation.

523 Australians die every day of the year.

In 2022 the top five causes of death for older Australians were coronary heart disease, stroke and other blood vessel related conditions, COVID, cancers and dementia. Covid distorted the trend that year, displacing lower respiratory diseases such as pneumonia.

Do you realise that everyone you know some day will die?

The Flaming Lips, 2002.

Thinking or talking about death is thought to be dark, gloomy or, even, unnatural; as though people who talk about it have a death wish.

I don’t have a wish for death. I love life, and I love my life.

However, I’ve been preparing for my death for a long time now.

I’ve attended the bedside deaths of numerous family members and friends. And I recognise the many day-to-day “mini-deaths” I’ve experienced in the ending of things: holidays, jobs, relationships, my daily coffee (not joking).

I’ve been at the deaths of friends whose lives were cut short too early, and I’ve been at family members’ deaths after long, joyous and fruitful lives.

A death is an ending, and all endings lead to grief, acceptance and the embrace of it as an enriching dimension of life.

Grieving, accepting and embracing any ending encourages us to live fully in the present moment and make the most of whatever time is left to us.

An example is the flourishing Death Café movement which began in London in 2011 and has an estimated 178,000 participants across 89 countries. Now, Adelaideans can join one at the Pure Land Death Festival at Centennial Park on October 12.

At these death cafes, participants chat about death thereby “increasing awareness of death with a view to helping (people) make the most of their (finite) lives”, their website states.

Apart from helping us live a good life, death literacy (conscious acceptance of our death whenever it comes) will also assist us – when we need – to navigate the palliative system, end-of-life and death care, advance care directives and voluntary assisted dying options, as well as wills, estate planning and funeral options.

I hope to live a long and healthy life. But, given the average age of male death in Australia is 82 years (85 for women), if I’m going to be statistically consistent, then I have 14 Christmases and birthdays remaining to me.

If the last two or three of these will be in decline with medical interventions of one kind or another, then I have 12 or so good years ahead of me. Any more will be a bonus.

Recognising this demands that I make the most of my life through quality time with my family and friends, communing with nature, deepening my relationship with music and art, and sharing life’s troubles with fellow beings.

I know what is important in my life.

Death is life-affirming. And in the end, whenever the time comes, it will be good.

Rainer Jozeps is a Lifeline Crisis volunteer and sits on the SA Voluntary Assisted Dying Review Board.