Among the nine people at dinner, no two experiences were quite alike. One person received a call from Belgian police at 8 in the morning who said matter of factly, “I’m calling to tell you your father has died.” That was the sum total of the end-of-life experience his family had with his workaholic father. He then traveled to Belgium to identify the body at the morgue. “They pulled him out. And when I saw his actual body, it was probably the first time I cried in a long time.” It took this experience to realize a father who had been too much apart from his son's life was “actually incredible to us. He was so selfless. He would do anything for us.”

Then there was the story of Nicky the Greek, a larger-than-life friend of one of the dinner participants, who kissed his wife good-bye one morning, headed for the golf course and “with no other indication he was in fear or pain, he literally dropped dead on the sixth hole.” It was the first time our fellow dinner partner had been to such a celebratory funeral. “Why was this so different?” she wondered. “Because when we go to a funeral today in the way the U.S. lets us die, everyone in that space has been through an extraordinary amount of hell.” After this experience, she decided “I want to drop dead on a golf course.” And she doesn’t know how to play golf.

As the dinner moved on, Hebb tossed out this scenario for people to consider: "You just found out you have 30 days to live. You can’t argue with the prognosis. You will be able-bodied, but in 30 days it’s over. Are you pissed? Do you feel it’s unjust? Are you at peace? How do you spend your time? Who’s around you?"

The first to take a crack at it was one of the youngest people at the table, a 34-year-old health-care policy director dedicated to strengthening the relationship between patients and caregivers. “I would try in those last 30 days to find every single person who I feel I have wronged to express how much I value them. If I have 30 days left, there’s no pride, no grudges. If I can make their life happier, that's my legacy. I made them feel they had some bright spot in their life and they are a good person.”

Lest you think the concept of a death dinner is too much of a downer, there was enough laughter and many one-liners sprinkled amid the sober discussion of end-of-life challenges. Despite the title, a death dinner shouldn’t be avoided out of some misplaced fear of being too morbid. That said, you should go prepared to be vulnerable and open. To a person, the participants were heartfelt and at times displayed raw emotions and even they may have surprised themselves. One participant at our dinner got so choked up that his eyes welled up and he had to take a long pause, as he thought about the excruciating loss of his father ten years earlier, and then considered his own mortality and how his daughter might be scarred by it.