In a morbid mood at the moment, bear with me...
Death, and the time spent leading up to it, is just another stage of life.
It is the final portion of your existence in which each breath's value increases a hundredfold. A concept outwith your grasp until you too are implored to experience it. The enhanced sense of duty and community; the tightening of the family knot as the end draws near... It seems to be almost compensation in light of the simple - and crushing - fact that no man, woman, or child crosses their final hurdle accompanied. As Chuck Palahniuk rightly observed in Fight Club, we are not unique and beautiful snowflakes. Neither are we unique and beautiful drops of water when we melt on life's tongue.
Perhaps the most difficult aspect of death to comprehend is the loss of control that the "victim" must endure as their curtain is drawn. Though a cliché, the comparison made between life and battle most certainly holds true. It is a battle that, although impossible to emerge victor, you are compelled to fight to your utmost capacity. Handicaps are in place. A fair fight it is not. The moment that Life claims its inevitable victory over you and is about to strike its final blow, you are given salt to rub into your wounds by admitting that, from the beginning, you never had much control anyway. The odds were not stacked against you - there were no odds given. For there to be odds, there must exist a chance of success.