In one of the recent episodes of House M.D., a homeless old man dying of lung cancer comes to the hospital but refuses treatment, saying that he wants to die suffering. Dr Cameron, as can be expected, is appalled at the suggestion, but the old man explains that it is the only way someone will remember him.

Take a deep breath.
Isn’t that what we are all afraid of? That we will leave this world and no one will remember us the next day? Maybe, a few friends or family might remember for a few days, if we are lucky. If we have been kind, some more people might sigh at the mention of our name. But mostly our actions have slipped past, escaping everyone’s notice. We have not exactly been creating history all this while or doing a huge service to mankind. Throughout our lives, most of us walk on, crossing each personal hurdle that comes, making no significant dent of our own anywhere, (though each of our achievements are astronomical to us) and the chances are high that we vanish as easily as a shooting star and there is not even a ripple or smoke trail to mark our passing. The people whom we lost and remember are still only a shadow in our own minds; an occasional memory of an ache that diminishes with time, but nothing more. Why should it be any different with us?

We can’t stand that feeling, can we? We have lived, smiled, suffered, endured, made a few others happy, and we’ve been kind, hardworking, dedicated, sincere, and everything, but we did not make any remarkable memory anywhere? Let alone history, we are not even going to make it to the local newspaper? No one will remember us?

What can be more disappointing than that? If we realise that our existence is not going to matter, are we going to consciously or unconsciously make any change in the way we live? Are we going to make an effort to create a dent or rewrite history so that we’re not forgotten? Or are we content to just remaining as we are, insignificant, unimportant, except in the lives of a handful?