Death is awkward. We don't like talking about it, especially in the West, where we tend to shove the reality of mortality into a dusty corner of the basement along with the old treadmill and that box of holiday cards from 1994. But then came Margareta Magnusson’s 2017 book, and eventually, the Swedish death cleaning show on Peacock—officially titled The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning—which basically forced us to look at our piles of "stuff" through a much darker, yet oddly refreshing, lens. It’s not a show about dying. Honestly, it’s a show about living better while you’re still here.
You’ve probably seen home renovation shows where a designer comes in and tells someone their kitchen is "dated." This isn't that. Produced by Amy Poehler and narrated by her with a dry, comedic wit, the series follows three Swedes—an organizer, a designer, and a researcher—as they help Americans navigate the process of döstädning. That’s the Swedish word for it. Dö means death, and städning means cleaning. It sounds brutal. It’s not. It’s a gift to the people you leave behind.
What People Get Wrong About Döstädning
Most people hear the title and think it’s just decluttering for the elderly. Wrong.
While the traditional practice in Sweden often starts around age 65, the Swedish death cleaning show makes a compelling case that you should probably start way sooner. Why wait until you’re physically unable to lift the boxes? The show features people of various ages, including those facing terminal diagnoses and those who are simply overwhelmed by the weight of their family’s inherited trauma and junk.
The core philosophy isn't about minimalism in a "Pinterest-perfect" way. It’s about being responsible. If you died tomorrow, would your kids or your best friend have to spend three months sifting through your old tax returns and broken electronics? If the answer is yes, you’re essentially leaving them a second job during their time of grief. That’s the "death" part. The "cleaning" part is what gives you your life back. When the "Organist" Ella Engström, the "Designer" Johan Svenson, and the "Psychologist" Katarina Blom walk into a home, they aren't just looking for trash. They’re looking for the person buried under it.
I think we’ve become obsessed with the "spark joy" method. But let’s be real: your spare light bulbs don't spark joy. Your toilet plunger doesn't spark joy. Döstädning is more practical. It asks: "Will anyone be happier because I kept this?"
The Three Swedes and the Kansas City Connection
The show is set in Kansas City, which provides a fascinating cultural clash. You have these very direct, no-nonsense Swedes dropping into the middle of American "more is more" culture.
- Katarina Blom: She’s the heart of the operation. As a psychologist, she deals with the "why" behind the hoarding. She often points out that we hold onto objects because we’re afraid of losing the memory attached to them.
- Johan Svenson: He’s the aesthetic eye. He’s not there to make things look like a museum; he’s there to make them functional.
- Ella Engström: The logistics queen. She’s the one who actually gets the heavy lifting done.
Take the episode with Suzi, a 75-year-old woman with a basement full of items from her late husband and her past as a lounge singer. It wasn't just about throwing away old gowns. It was about honoring the singer she used to be while acknowledging she doesn't need 40 sequined outfits to remember her talent. The Swedes don't just dump things; they help the participants curate a "legacy."
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Why the "Throwaway" Culture Is Failing Us
We live in a world of fast furniture and digital clutter. The Swedish death cleaning show highlights a specific American problem: the "storage unit" syndrome. Millions of people pay monthly fees to store things they haven't looked at in a decade.
In Sweden, there's a certain cultural pride in not being a burden. This is the nuance that many American viewers find shocking. The idea that keeping your clutter is actually a selfish act is a tough pill to swallow. But the show handles it with a mix of humor and genuine empathy. It’s not about shame. It’s about relief. You can see the physical weight lift off these people's shoulders as they realize they don't have to own everything they’ve ever touched.
Real Examples of the Death Cleaning Process
One of the most moving parts of the series involves the "Secret Box." Margareta Magnusson suggests having a small box labeled "Throw Away" or "Private." This is for your old love letters, your private diaries, or things that meant something to you but would only confuse or embarrass your heirs.
When you die, your family finds the box, sees the label, and (hopefully) tosses it without looking. It gives you permission to keep your secrets until the very end without burdened others with them.
Then there’s the "Crap" vs. "Legacy" distinction.
Most of what we own is crap.
- Old cables for phones we don't own anymore.
- Tupperware without lids.
- Clothes that haven't fit since the Bush administration.
The Swedish death cleaning show proves that by clearing the crap, the legacy items—the hand-written recipes, the one really good photo of your grandfather, the heirloom watch—actually get the space they deserve. They stop being clutter and start being treasures again.
The Psychological Impact of Facing Mortality
Katarina Blom often discusses the "death anxiety" that keeps us tethered to our belongings. If we get rid of the stuff, are we admitting that our time is limited? Yes. And that’s okay.
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By engaging in döstädning, you are essentially doing your own "life review." You're looking at your choices, your travels, and your mistakes. It’s therapeutic. In one episode, a man named Godfrey, who is living with lung cancer, uses death cleaning to prepare his apartment for his family. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s also incredibly empowering. He is taking control of the one thing he can still manage: his environment and the ease of his transition for his loved ones.
Is It Just for the Dying?
Absolutely not.
If you’re 30 and moving into a new apartment, you should death clean. If you’re 45 and your kids just left for college, you should death clean. The show suggests that we should all live as if we might need to pack up our lives relatively quickly. Not in a morbid way, but in a "lightness of being" way. Imagine being able to move houses in a single weekend because you only own what you actually use and love. That’s the dream.
How to Start Your Own Swedish Death Cleaning
Watching the show is a great first step because it desensitizes you to the "scary" parts of the process. But once the TV is off, how do you actually do it?
First, don't start with the photos. That’s the biggest mistake people make. You’ll get sucked into a vortex of nostalgia and three hours later, you’ll have accomplished nothing but crying over a picture of your kindergarten class.
Start with the easy stuff.
- The Kitchen: Toss the expired spices. Get rid of the three extra potato peelers. If you haven't used that bread maker since 2019, it goes.
- The "Hidden" Areas: Basements, attics, and junk drawers. These are the places where "legacy" goes to die. If it’s in a box and you don't know what’s in the box, you don't need it.
- The Wardrobe: Be ruthless. If you died today, would you want your daughter to have to decide what to do with your stained sweatpants? No. Toss them.
The Swedish death cleaning show teaches us that the goal isn't an empty house. The goal is a curated life. It’s about making sure that when you’re gone, the things people find tell the story you actually want to be told.
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Actionable Next Steps for the Overwhelmed
If the thought of cleaning out your entire house feels like climbing Everest, just stop. Take a breath. You don't have to do it in a week. The Swedes take months, even years.
Identify your "Death Cleaning Buddy." The show works because the participants have the three Swedes to push them. You need someone who isn't emotionally attached to your stuff. Your sister might be too sentimental, but your blunt best friend? Perfect. Ask them to come over for two hours on a Saturday.
The "Would I Buy This Now?" Test.
Look at an object. If you saw it in a store today, would you spend your hard-earned money on it? If the answer is no, why is it taking up expensive real estate in your home?
Digital Death Cleaning.
Don't forget the cloud. Your family doesn't want to deal with 50,000 unorganized digital photos or trying to guess your password for your bank account. Organize your digital legacy. Use a password manager and create a "Legacy Contact" on your phone and social media accounts.
Ultimately, The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning isn't a show about the end. It’s about a new beginning. It’s about stripping away the physical manifestations of your past so you can actually breathe in the present. It’s a bit weird, a bit sad, and a lot funny—just like life.
Start small. Start today. Your future self (and your family) will thank you for not leaving them with a basement full of mystery boxes and 19 identical coffee mugs.
Practical Insight: Set a timer for 15 minutes tonight. Go to one drawer—just one—and remove everything that is broken, expired, or hasn't been used in a year. That’s your first step into döstädning. It’s not about getting rid of your life; it’s about making room for it.