I forget who it was now, so I can't link, but I once read a blog by a nurse who worked with dying patients. He'd visit them in their homes; I guess the proper term is palliative care. In perhaps the only post of his that I can recall, he recounted how he advised a wonderful lady who was quickly coming to the end of her days on this sphere that it was time for her to thank her body for bearing her (my words) through the years.
That's has stuck with me: the notion of thanking your body when it is time. It seems good and fitting to me. But then I consider that I might begin to be thankful for it (or to it) long before I begin the last lap.
I don't think many of us do this, for our relationships with our bodies are not always terribly positive. At best we tend to take our housing for granted, but more often than not, we often hold negative feelings: wishing that we were taller, leaner, stronger, more durable, or some combination of the above.
But weak or strong, they are all that keep our spirits alive. For that I am grateful.