My grandmother was a nurse. Soon after she graduated her father fell ill and was dying. Her initial instinct was to turn to her training. He wasn't eating. He needed fluids. She talked to the doctor about what she thought he needed. The doctor looked at her and asked, "To what end?" He explained that she was right. They could hydrate him. They could force him to eat. They could prolong his life for... weeks? And for what? The exchange made a lasting positive impression on her.

It's been pretty powerful in our entire family. She's passed on that legacy. There is a certain peace with dying. My grandfather had a DNR in place when he passed away. He would have been furious if we had spent large amounts of resources trying to prolong his life near the end. He wanted palliative care and nothing else. My mother feels that way.

I would say I'm willing to fight harder for a 35 year old mother/father. But for all of us at some point it's time. Fighting death prolongs the inevitable and makes end of life miserable.