I understand what you're saying, at that point your mind has turned to soup so you won't be able to fear death. In that perspective it actually is indeed, a very pleasant death. My other grandmother died of breast cancer. It spread out and after a few years she ended up in the hospital where she spent her last few days on earth. She already knew that it would be the end and at that moment she would be between two worlds. When the kids, me and my sister, were around she seemed relaxed and at ease. Like she'd found peace. When we weren't there however, she occasionally had minor panic attacks. This is something I heard from my dad later. She'd always remained strong in my eyes, but when death finally caught up on her she was scared. She'd cry, something I had never seen her do. We rushed to the hospital when the moment finally arrived in the middle of the night after a few days. We said goodbye, knowing that this was the last time we'd ever talk to her. My dad stayed there by her side and the nurse gave her some morphine for the pain. Over the next few hours she'd slip in and out of a deep sleep. She spoke to my father one last time and I'll never forget what she said: "Don't be afraid, dying does not hurt." I admit, she was on morphine but it shows that she had found peace and was not afraid of dying. These are perhaps beautiful last words but a little later she said something that I even find more fitting for her, as a nice caring person and mother. She asked her only son if he was hungry, he could get some food from the nurses if he was hungry. My dad told her he wasn't hungry and she went back to sleep, to never wake up again.
I hope I'll go out like my grandmother, kids by my side having the chance to say goodbye. Hope my deathbed will be as peaceful.
Typing this took me a while and I know the subject has shifted again but I just needed to type this all out.
That is a sad story. I suppose it was in some way comforting for her knowing she had a loving family by her side.
I'm going to depress this even further by talking about my maternal grandparents. I never knew them, they died long before I was born. My grandfather died of kidney disease at the age of 33. My grandmother committed suicide.
My mother actually walked in on her dead in her bed. She was only 8 at the time. She and her brothers spent most of their childhood growing up first at their grandparents, and then in a child home.