You need language for thought, and you need language to anticipate death. There is no abstract thought without language and no anticipation. I think the anticipation of death without language would be impossible.
“On barren days,
At hours when I, apart, have
Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast,
Behold with music’s many-stringed charms
The silence groweth thou. O rare delight!
The melody upon clear strings inflected
Were dull when o’er taut sense thy presence floweth,
With quivering notes’ accord that never palleth.”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: Of Incense”