La mort est quelquefois un châtiment; souvent c'est un don; pour plus d'un, c'est une grâce.
Death is sometime a curse…
Lily Potter almost cried when she heard the thump of her husband's body as it hit the floor. She shook as the noise of Voldemort's footsteps got closer to the room where she was with her son. She cursed their overconfidence in their friend's loyalty that had prevented them from having a portkey ready in an event like this. When the door opened, her wand was steady and she was ready to fight, but, as she looked into his eyes and saw the bloodlust, she started crying and pleading for her only child's life. She died certain of his near death, never knowing her sacrifice would give him the greatest protection again his enemy.
Often, it is a gift…
For the past year, Albus Dumbledore had felt his strength leave him. Old age was partly to blame, but the curse that was burning his arm and magic was another part of it. He had been ready to die many years ago, but the fight with a Dark Lord he had partly created had kept him in this world. Now, seeing the child that was fated to fight the monster become a man, he was ready. And when is old friend had stood before him and uttered the fateful words, he closed his eyes in peace.
For many, it's a grace.
Severus had lived many more years than he had thought possible. Spies tend to have very short lives in wars. He had actually hoped to die early as a way to redeem his deeds and to, maybe, find a kind of peace. Which is why, he didn't try to fight when the Dark Lord ordered his pet snake to bite him. Now, he could rest and be forgotten.