Why are we here when our time here is so brief? A footprint on the moon will outlast those few heartbeats and fewer breaths that our lifetime's span.

Lifetime. A word signifying our own personal eternities but, really, being meaningless when compared against the truly eternal. A universe. A, supposedly, love.

We hope to be here for longer than our years, albeit it in memory, but memories fade quickly. I was going to say it's like an inverted pyramid, with us being in the thoughts of many to begin with, but that number waning as the years and generations pass. But no. It's an hourglass, with the sand rushing through, each grain being one part of us, disappearing from that universe faster and faster until...

Shit. I'm a morbid sod, ain't I? When did I get so miserable? When did I reach the point where I contemplated what might remain of me once I'm gone? I was always so positive, even through the times where my positivity was a false smile below watery eyes. The smile would still be there. The joke would mask while the banter disguised. People used to look to me to cheer them up when they were down, not seeing that I, too, could sweep the ocean's floor in search of the oysters of happiness.

Oysters of happiness. Sounds like a 70s band who'd smoked too much wacky baccy (as my mum called it). They'd sing songs with lyrics that only made esoteric sense if you, too, were high. Even then, you'd have to listen to them sideways, with one ear closed and one eye open. Well, that's what it felt like to me the only time I tried...

What was it? I can't quite remember. But now, I'm thinking of my mum. Her weird phrases. Her technophobia (no, mum the cordless phone won't turn on the TV and, when someone calls, the remote won't answer it).

See? She's remembered by me. Not all the time, and less over time, but still, there's plenty of her in me to make me smile. I hold on to those grains of sand, even though I can feel them running through my fingers. I've passed those stories on to my children and, perhaps, they might do the same to theirs. Probably not, though. We diminish, don't we? We lessen. We fade like the breath we breathe on a morning's chill.

Shit, again. What is wrong with me? Thoughts of Mum always cheered me up. Well, most of them, anyway. It wasn't all good, but those memories are further back than the rest. They're Time's outcasts, only being allowed to step forward when the happy ones are taking a well-earned rest.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. That's what I need, and, I hope, what others have of me. Has my smile made others do the same? Did the driver of that car I let through in the heavy traffic feel uplifted, even slightly, as they hurried home? Did the old lady to whom I gave my trolley token hold that grin for longer than it took her to turn away and enter the store?

I have no grand statue with my name at its base. I didn't invent an app to change people's lives and nor did I act in a billion-dollar movie. The world doesn't know me. But I suppose it does. This world. My world. My circle.

I suppose we all want to last forever. Immortality doesn't just mean living forever. It can simply be that we exist within those that follow us.

I hope I do. It's still a legacy, whatever its scope.

"That's right."

Oh, I forgot he was here. He's so quiet, so indistinct when he wants to be, he's easy to overlook, which is odd, really, when my mind is on that exact subject. I should apologise.

"No need," he said. "It happens with everyone. I'm only seen when people don't want to see me."

"That sucks," I said.

"Not really. Everyone knows me, either way."

Yeah, they do. And everyone also gets to meet him.

"So, this is it?"

"It is."

"Do I have... Will I...?"

"Just look around. What do you think?"

I do as he says. I see my friends. My family. You. You're all gathered around. Some crying. Some trying not to. I don't know why you would be. If I could think of a joke, especially at my own expense, I'd tell it.

But I can't.

"Come on," Death said, standing. "Let's go."

I nod and follow.