I ran across this piece by Washington Irving on the meditations we have at the bedside of someone we love and have been loved by, as they pass away. I hope some may have these kind of thoughts when I die.

  "The grave of those we loved, what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments, lavished upon us, almost unheeded, in the daily intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness, of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities; the last testimonies of expiring love! The feeble, fluttering, thrilling, oh, how thrilling, pressure of the hand; the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence! The faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection."  W. Irving.