I was at a funeral today, which I won’t talk much about because it is still too hard to think about.
The person we lost was a person with great personal faith. At the mass, the Priest said something that really stuck with me (I am paraphrasing):
“People without faith believe that the sentence of their lives end with a period. People of faith believe it ends with a comma.”
Times like this I wish I was more of a comma kind of person.
The Blahg 
Well there are two positive ways to spin out of that predicament, if I understand your meaning. For the person who believes firmly that it ends in a period, you try to make the best sentence you can. For the person who believes that it probably ends in a period, you still try to make the best sentence you can and then what to see what happens, with perhaps the most open mind of the bunch. Without suggesting that those relying on the second clause of the sentence are doing so, it would be a shame to have everything before the comma be a waste of letters.
For me, at this time, believing in commas would mean having the comfort of believing in an afterlife.