Looking for a good death

It's not death I fear of.
It's dying alone, with no one to cry for me.
How precious it is
To have someone to validate my existence
To have someone whose life will be more miserable in my absence.
I fear of not fulfilling these selfish conquests
I fear of being the hunter who has only the moon for company
As he combs the tundra for a rabbit
I want to have the family with a tent and a fire to go with it
I would go hunting for food
They would worry whether I was killed by a bear on the way back
Sometimes the hunter spares the rabbit
So it can give him company
He tied a knot at its feet
And fastened the rope to his arm
Because rabbits don't cry
They are only hungry
So when he dies the rabbit can't run away
It will give him company on his deathbed
It will be the weeping relative
Only the tears will come in the face of death.