I do not fear death. Or, if you prefer, there is no death. There is only the cessation of this life before the transformation of our energy into its next manifestation. This life in which we love to live and grasp at so desperately is merely an encumberence once we can no longer enjoy it or learn from it. The problem is that most people cannot be honest enough with themselves to discern when that point truly arrives. Some rush prematurely forward, while others demand to live, even if there can be only pain and anguish.
We need look no further than those that wail and mourn when an elderly or infirm loved one departs. They often admit that the departed has moved to a better place yet they are selfishly distraught. Rarely is there a rational reaction to the loss of a loved one. Would that make us seem less human, or is it further example of our inability to be honest with ourselves?
I have seen many people living in situations or with conditions that I would prefer never to have to experience myself. Some appear happy, some merely tolerate, while others obviously suffer through their condition because they fear the unkown; they fear death. I do not have to live their life, so I cannot judge them if they chose to abandon it. As there are things that I fear, I cannot judge those that are afraid to abandon it.