Parents dream of their unborn children with the belief that blessed are the deserving. Blessed are the faithful. We shield our thoughts from this sad promise, and fain shock until grieving gives us shelter from its occurrence. No planning is required to bring the savior of the infirm. Their time to die.
All cultures have certain beliefs about death.
As a child I went home from Sunday Services not only assured of the fiery brimstone of hell, but certain that everyone I knew including my pets and myself were doomed to a burning ever after. As an young adult, I molded my beliefs to exclude a special place for the dammed. Now, I am one of the dammed. One who has seen passed our own simple existence, and faced a soldier from the Angel of Death. My mother told me she could not make the decision for me.