The Death Deck: A Review (And a Thank You)

It sat on my counter for weeks.

I ordered The Death Deck because I'm building a company in the death-positive space and figured I should know what else was out there. And then it arrived, and I put it on the counter, and I walked past it every single day without touching it.

Which tells you something about how comfortable most of us actually are with the topic of death — even when we think we're comfortable with it.

Eventually I worked up the nerve to ask my husband Mark to play "a game that talks about death" with us. He agreed, reluctantly. We opened a bottle of wine, sat down at the table, and honestly? It was one of the better nights we've had in a while.

We laughed. I cried (I always cry). And we had some of the most meaningful conversations we've had in years.

What the game actually is

The Death Deck was created by Lisa Pahl, a hospice social worker, and Lori LoCicero, an author and widow. Their origin story is the kind that stays with you: Lisa was the hospice social worker assigned to Lori's husband Joe when he was placed on home hospice — dying of pancreatic cancer at 44. After Joe died, the two kept talking. For over two years, their sessions turned into conversations about how little our culture prepares us for death — and how much it costs us. Those conversations became The Death Deck.

The game is a deck of cards — some multiple choice, some open-ended conversation prompts — designed to get people talking about death in a way that feels approachable. Sometimes even funny.

That part surprised me the most. I genuinely laughed at several of the cards. I was not expecting that.

We started with the multiple choice cards but pretty quickly switched to the conversation prompt cards — Mark and I are talkers, and we found ourselves just wanting to go deep. Though I can see how the multiple choice format would be a gentler entry point if you're playing with someone who might be more guarded about the topic.

We also tried to keep score for about five minutes before completely abandoning that idea. Once the conversations started, the last thing either of us wanted to do was stop and tally points. (Though if you're competitive, I could see how the scoring element might make it more fun with certain groups.)

One thing I loved: Lisa instructs you to stack the deck before you play so the most meaningful questions come up first. Such a simple, thoughtful touch.

The two cards that stopped me cold

I wasn't expecting to be stumped. But there were two cards I set aside because I genuinely didn't have an answer.

The first: "Lucky You — you get to relive one day in your life before you die. Which one would it be?"

I sat with that one for a long time. I have several good contenders. But none that stood out as the clear best. And that bothered me — in the best possible way. That card is now on my bathroom mirror as a reminder that I have an unfinished challenge: to create a best day ever. On purpose. Before I need to choose one.

The second card I'm keeping to myself for now — but trust me, it got me.

The unexpected gift of talking about death

What I keep finding in the death-positive community is this: talking about death is one of the most effective motivators to actually live. Fully. Intentionally.

When Mark and I talked through "Who would you want to speak at your memorial?" — a question neither of us had ever really thought about — we went through our people, talked about who could hold it together long enough to say something meaningful (not me, clearly), and ended up in this surprisingly tender conversation about who we are to each other and to the people around us.

That question, that conversation — I'm so glad we had it. I never would have gotten there on my own.

A personal thank you to Lisa and Lori

I want to take a moment to say something directly to the co-creators of The Death Deck — Lisa Pahl and Lori LoCicero.

Lisa — thank you. Not just for making a game that got my husband and me talking about things that actually matter. But for being the kind of person who builds bridges between people in this space — and for being one of them yourself.

And Lori — what you chose to do with your grief is remarkable. You took one of the hardest things a person can go through and turned it into something that helps strangers start conversations they've been avoiding for years. Joe's story is woven into every card in that deck. That's an extraordinary legacy.

My honest recommendation

Buy it. Seriously.

Now that I've gotten past my own avoidance (the counter, the weeks, the reluctance), I'm planning to play The Death Deck with so many people I love. Not because it's morbid — but because it creates connection. Real, meaningful connection. And I think we could all use more of that.

If you're curious, also check out Lisa's other games: the EOL (End of Life) Deck, the Dementia Deck, and I've heard there are more on the way.

Order yours at thedeathdeck.com — and tell Lisa I sent you.