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It seems right, in this month when we are called to pray for the holy souls in purgatory (as Iosephus reminds us), to think also of our own death. With St. Alphonsus, our fond patron, we contrast the deaths of the just, with those of worldly souls:
At the deathbed of the consummate sinner, from his A Preparation for Death:
The dying man who has neglected the salvation of his soul will find thorns in everything that is presented to him - thorns in the remembrance of past amusements, rivalries overcome and pomps displayed; thorns in the friends who will visit him, and in whatever their presence shall bring before his mind; thorns in the spiritual Fathers who assist in turn; thorns in the Sacraments of Penance, the Holy Eucharist and Extreme Unction, which he must receive; thorns even in the crucifix which is placed before him. In that sacred image he will read his want of correspondence to the love of a God who died for his salvation.
“O fool that I have been,” the poor sick man will say, “with the lights and opportunities that God has given me, I could have become a saint! I could have led a life of happiness in the grace of God; and after so many years that He gave me, what do I find but torments, distrust, fears, remorse of conscience and accounts to render to God? I shall scarcely save my soul.” And when will he say this? When the oil in the lamp is on the point of being consumed, and the scene of this world is about to close forever; when he finds himself in view of two eternities, one happy, the other miserable; when he is near that last gasp on which depends his everlasting bliss or eternal despair, as long as God shall be God. What would he then give for another year, month, or even another week, with the perfect use of his faculties? In the stupefaction, oppression of the chest and difficulty of breathing under which he then labours, he can do nothing; he is incapable of reflection, or of applying his mind to the performance of any good act; he is, as it were, shut up in a dark pit of confusion, where he can see nothing but the ruin which threatens him, and which he feels himself unable to avert. He would wish for time; but the assisting priest shall say to him, Proficiscere - “Depart!” Adjust your accounts as well as you can in the few moments that remain, and depart. Do you not know that death waits for no-one, respects no-one?
Oh! With what dismay will he then think and say: “This morning I am alive; this evening I shall probably be dead! Today I am in this room; tomorrow I shall be in the grave! And where will my soul be found?” With what terror will he be seized when he sees the death candle prepared? When he hears his relatives ordered to withdraw from his apartment, and to return to it no more? When his sight begins to grow dim? Finally, how great will be his alarm and confusion when he sees that, because death is at hand, the candle is lighted? O candle, O candle, how many truths will you then unfold! How different will you make things appear then to how they appear at present! Oh how clearly will you show the dying sinner that all the goods of this world are vanities, folly, and lies? But of what use is it to understand these truths when the time is past of profiting by them?
Or, the death of the just man, also taken from A Preparation for Death:
The torments which afflict 
sinners at death do not disturb the peace of the saints. The souls of the just are in the hands of God, and the torment of death shall not touch them. That proficiscere [the priest’s command to depart this world] which is so full of terror to worldlings does not alarm the saints. The just man is not afflicted at the thought of being obliged to take leave of the goods of the earth, for he has always kept his heart detached from them. During life he has constantly said to the Lord: “Thou art the God of my heart, and the God that is my portion for ever” [Ps. LXXII, 46]. [...] The saint is not afflicted at bidding an eternal farewell to honours, for he always hated them, and considered them to be what they really are - smoke and vanity. He is not afflicted in leaving relatives, for he loved them only in God, and at death he recommends them to his heavenly Father, Who loves them more than he does; and having a secure confidence of salvation, he expects to be better able to assist them from Heaven than on this earth. In a word, he who has constantly said during life, My God and my all, continues to repeat it with greater consolation and greater tenderness at the hour of death.
He who dies loving God, is not disturbed by the pains of death; but, seeing that he is now at the end of life, and that he has no more to suffer for God, or to offer Him other proofs of his love, he accepts these pains with joy. With affection and peace he offers to God these last moments of life, and feels consoled in uniting the sacrifice of his death to the sacrifice which Jesus Christ offered for him on the Cross to his eternal Father. Thus he dies happily, saying: “In peace, in the self same, I will sleep, and I will rest” [Ps. IV, 9].
Being myself a most wretched sinner, I find inspiration in contemplating the deaths of the glorious martyrs. From The Victories of the Martyrs, also by St. Alphonsus Ligouri:
In 1618, at Nagasaki, which was the last refuge of the Christians, an officer of justice entered the house of one of the principal inhabitants of the city and asked for a pen in order to register the names of all the Christians living there. A little girl eight years old gave him a pen saying: “Take this, and put my name down so that I may be the first to die for Jesus Christ.” Then came the mother, who also gave her name; and as the officer was going away she ran after him, holding in her arms her youngest child, and said: “Put also on your list, I beg you, the name of this child, who was sleeping when you came, and whom I had forgotten.”
Among the many faithful Christians who were cast into prison in that year was Brother Leonard Guimura, a Japanese, of the Society of Jesus. This fervent Christian baptized in prison eighty-six idolaters who had been locked up with him. The holy life led by these prisoners was most remarkable; for every day they made a two hours’ meditation and spent one hour in vocal prayer; they fasted Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays; and on each Friday they prayed for five hours in honor of the Passion of Jesus Christ.
The governor knowing that Brother Leonard had changed his prison into a house of prayer, and that he had converted the idolatrous prisoners, condemned him to death with four of his companions. When they were interrogated the judge asked Leonard why he had remained in Japan. The Brother answered, saying: “I remained in order that I might preach the law of Jesus Christ.” “For that,” rejoined the judge, “you shall be burned alive.” “Then,” exclaimed Leonard, “let the world know that I am condemned to death by fire, and that I have preached the law of Jesus Christ.” The judge addressing another of the faithful, named Dominic George, a Portuguese, arrested for having given shelter to a missionary priest, he said that he also would be burnt for what he had done. Dominic replied: “I prefer this sentence to the possession of the whole Japanese empire.” The five who had been condemned were then led to execution. The streets were crowded with people, the sea covered with boats filled with spectators who had assembled to witness the death of the holy confessors. Each one inclined respectfully to the stake to which he was then bound. The fire having been kindled, Leonard was after a short time seen to place reverentially the cinders upon his head while he sang the psalm Laudare Dominum omnes gentes. This spectacle so filled the faithful with the desire of martyrdom that many of them approached the fire in order to be thrown into it. Several pagans were converted when they saw the joy exhibited by the martyrs in the midst of the flames. Their sacrifice was consummated November 28th, 1619.
In 1622, September 2 or 10, there was at Nagasaki a great execution of Christians, which was called the Great Martyrdom, because twenty-one religious and thirty-one seculars were put to death, some of them being decapitated and the rest burnt alive. What was above all to be admired was the constancy of those who perished in the fire; for they had been but loosely tied to their stakes, so that overcome by their sufferings they could easily get loose, take flight, and declare themselves apostates; but the holy confessors steadfastly remained in the midst of the flames till death. One of the condemned, who was not counted among the fifty-two martyrs, came forth from the fire; but seeing the courage with which his wife suffered death, he again threw himself into the flames and returned to the stake. There were two others, who were still young, who fled and presented themselves to the hudge, invoking Xaca and Amida. But oh, astonishing thing, how much the wicked themselves abhor inconstancy in doing good! the idolaters felt such contempt for these two apostates that they seized them and threw them back into the fire. Thus did these unfortunate men pass from the temporal to the eternal fire.
These victims were followed by many others immolated chiefly at Nagasaki and at Omura. In this latter city three women distinguished themselves above all by their admirable firmness. A magistrate having gone to visit one of them named Justa, whose son had been despoiled of all his property and 
deprived even of life on account of his faith, declared to her that he would aid her to recover all the possessions of her son if she would only cease to be a Christian. Justa also had a daughter called Mary, aged fourteen years. The judge having perceived her, said to her that he would adopt her as his daughter if she would adore the gods. “Adore the gods!” cried out the young Christian; “I adore only one God, creator of heaven and earth; it was for Him that my brother died, and it is for Him that I also wish to die.” The judge then proceeded to the widow of the martyr, a young woman of eighteen, named Agatha, who was near her confinement; he falsely stated that Justa, her mother-in-law, had denied the faith, and that she should imitate her, and in doing so she would be taking care of her child. Agatha replied that she would prefer to see this child perish in her womb, rather than entrust it to the care of an idolater, the murderer of its father. She added that she desired death, hoping soon to rejoin her husband in heaven. The judge having reported all this to the governor, the latter condemned the three women to die the following night. When they heard of this sentence they fell on their knees to thank Jesus Christ for the grace that he had conferred on them. At the appointed hour, they joyfully set out for the place of execution, acoompanied by more than three hundred Christians. When they arrived there, Agatha prostrated herself, having Justa on her right and Mary, her daughter-in-law, on her left. After praying for some time, all three presented their necks and were beheaded, October 9, 1622.
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