CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Ninth Tuesday, We Talk About How Love Goes On

"Sure, I want to leave a legacy behind. I want to be remembered when I die," House said. "But I don't think I will be."

"How can you say that? You've helped so many people," I argued.

House shrugged. "Yeah, but what about when those people die? Perhaps their children will vaguely remember my name as the doctor that saved their mommy or daddy, but after that, poof. It'll be like I never even existed."

"That's terrible, that someone could lead a life as great as yours and not be remembered," I said desolately.

House replied, "Well…it's not like I invented the lightbulb or something."

"No, but…"

"Chase, you're going to have to face the fact that after you're gone, no one will remember you. Your name will only cross the minds of those who happen to walk by your gravestone while visiting someone much more important than you," House said. "You'll be like John Keats. 'Here lies one whose name is writ on water.'"

I sighed, rubbing my closed eyes in both exasperation and exhaustion. "Something must be everlasting, House. Something about each of us must go on."

"What makes you think that, Chase?"
I shrugged. "I just think…what would be the point of life if when it's over, it's…really over?"

"Lives end. Everybody dies," House remarked.

"Yes, LIVES end, but the existence of a person? Don't you find it a abandoned feeling to know that once you're dead, your name will never be thought of again except by those few who love you, and after they die…you'll be just another gravestone?" I questioned, hoping House would give me a real answer.
And he did, to my surprise. "Yes, but that is what life is for, isn't it? I think most people live their lives with one of two ultimate goals in mind. They either live to be happy or they live to be remembered. And they usually don't come hand in hand."

"What do you think is more important?" I asked.

House replied, "It all depends on the person. I've never been happy, so I guess being remembered is more important to me, but it looks like I won't get that one accomplished either."

"I'll always remember you, House," I said quietly.

"So what? You'll remember me, I'll remember you, and that's as far as it'll go."

I thought for a moment before responding, "House, maybe life doesn't go on, and maybe not everyone will remember you or know your name, but I know one thing to be true."

"And what's that?"

"Love goes on," I told him. "And that's how you'll be remembered. You've made me a better person, House. And maybe this better person I've become has made someone else better, and so on. You pass love to me, and I pass it on to someone else. It's timeless and certainly everlasting."

House nodded sadly. "I guess so. I just wish my name didn't have to be writ on water."

"Why? Lakes are beautiful, oceans are magnificent, and rivers never end."