Died doing what he loved

Yesterday pilot Scott Crossfield died in a plane crash while flying to Virginia. Crossfield was the first pilot to fly at twice the speed of sound and worked with Chuck Yeager, Neil Armstrong and the like. He was one of the pilots immortalized in the book "The Right Stuff" by Tom Wolfe.

Now, honestly, I never would have recognized the name if someone just said to me, Scott Crossfield died. NPR does wonders for my knowledge base.

During the initial report of Crossfield's death they interviewed one of his friends who said "The machine failed him, he knew what he was doing."

Crossfield seems the kind of person that people are obviously sad to see pass, but they will say "He died doing what he loved." Though the event was tragic, he did not die in his bed. He was caught in a thunderstorm doing something he loved.

If a golfer dies of a heart attack on the course, or perhaps gets a bolt of lightening through the nine iron (I don't know golfing talk, bear with me), would people still say "He/she died doing what they love? How about an exotic animal trainer? Much like when Roy was attacked by one of his famous white tigers. No, he didn't die. But if he had, would the phrase have been uttered?

And if someday, someone finds me slumped over the keyboard of a laptop, my fingers typing out an endless row of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Did I die doing what I loved?

Or do writers all die in their beds? Trying desperately to recall who said "Either that wallpaper goes, or I do!"