Echoes

As I wandered along the corridors and alleyways in what has become my final moments of a momentous chapter in my life, I hear the reverberations of well-wishes, sad lamentations, appeals to remain in touch, promises of remembrance, and echoes of warmth.

These make the final exit a lot harder as much as there are many forces at work pushing me on. It makes the moment of that last stroll out a dreaded anxiety.

Yet while these moments help me recall why I came here four odd innocent years ago (they resurrect the times I've felt joy doing the things that truly meant something to me) I know with all certainty that the echoes down the hallways will fade with time and all that will remain will be the reverberations of normalcy, all that will remain are the traces of isolated recollections and passing mentions.

I have no need for a memory carved in stone; and there is none only in the acts that I have done with great fervour, dedication, and selflessness.

Perhaps I will be remembered; perhaps I will not be. Perhaps these are merely clingings of a need to be needed. Perhaps I will dissipate like echoes.

But I will remember; remember those that have brought meaning and joy to my life. And that's where immortality resides. Perhaps that is more than sufficient.