Thanks for your interesting post, Ishay. I'm not sure exactly which kind of connection you have in mind with the earlier post, but I'll respond anyway. If the connection is simply a general story of decline, then I'm not sure how productive this can be (except, as you say, for curmudgeons, of which I am sometimes, unavoidably, one). But I'll take a guess and say you might be illustrating a particular sense of a withdrawal of cultural sources of value, for which, maybe, we have only the compensation of certain distractions that you named before. As arbitrary as deathbed practices may be, they are an occasion for social ritual in most cultures, and I think it would be reasonable to imagine that these kind of rituals make society possible, partly by representing society to itself: they establish, as a poetry professor of mine used to put it, the possibility of communication between persons. The values they bear may be invented or at least historically contingent, but this doesn't make them less important.
What this reminds me of is the sense of cultural crisis that modernist poetry registers and often tries to negotiate. Whatever story one tells -- whether it's about 19th-century industrialization and urbanization, European war, loss of religious values, etc. -- the poets were, I think, noticing that what had seemed like stable sources of value for European and American society were now appearing unavailable or even untenable. T. S. Eliot, for instance, tries in his early poems to imagine new ways of producing value. (Like many of the modernists, he thus had a strongly conservative tendency, and in the later work I think it's fair to say that he fell back on high-church Anglicanism as a source of value and cultural prestige.)
About the deathbed, I'm strongly reminded of William Carlos Williams' poem "Tract," with which you might already be familiar. It's under copyright and too long to quote, but it begins
I will teach you my townspeople
How to perform a funeral--
It goes on to give particular instructions in what I would call decorum; there are some marvelous lines. (Here too, one thinks of a conservative poet, Yeats, who was very concerned with poetic decorum. Williams, though, is evidently not invested in recuperating traditions that would no longer serve, and certainly not in Yeats's kind of mystification.)
I don't know how well these poets can serve in the current cultural crisis, if there is one. I don't mean to say that things are the same today as they were a century ago, which is why I think it's important to describe and theorize what, in particular, you might think is the matter. But perhaps it is possible to bring another period's writings to bear on the contemporary situation.
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About the end of your post I have little to offer, except to say that this vortex of "but then ... but ..." risks leading to the position in which we wave our hands and say, "things are complicated," and walk away. This is usually the way Hollywood's "social problem films" turn out nowadays.