143. The Dinner Party – Carla Fernandez
In 2020, a year that was no stranger to grief, our dinner parties became virtual—like everything else.
When my father died of cancer the year I turned 21, the place my healing would happen was around a kitchen table. Not under the fluorescent lights of a brain cancer support meeting, in the same hospital basement where we had lost all hope. Not in the circle of metal folding chairs at the young adult grief group, where we were asked to pass a teddy bear as a talking stick.
After being a caretaker for a year to the man I loved most, I didn’t want cold. I didn’t want cute. I longed for a space made for the living, that awakened senses and allowed for conversations about what glimpsing death teaches us about life. So I made a meal, and invited a few friends who’d also experienced loss at a young age to join me for a dinner party. Over my family's arroz con pollo, we started a conversation not just about the diagnosis or the cancer or the crash, but about the winding road of life after. It grew into a global community called The Dinner Party. Ten years later, the conversation continues, with over 13,000 people in over 100 cities.
In 2020, a year that was no stranger to grief, our dinner parties became virtual—like everything else. We’ve learned the benefits of this for people in rural places, with kids, or with disabilities. We’ve learned that shared stories of loss can transcend time zones. We’re pretty sure we’ll never fully go back.
And yet… as the promise of the vaccine flickers at the end of this very long and claustrophobic tunnel, we’re starting to daydream about sitting down with our people, dimming the lights, swirling a glass and asking, after a year that’s provided far too much fodder for a conversation on grief, What brings you to our table?
– Carla Fernandez
