The world will go on without you -- and me. Such a bummer.

Because all we know is what we perceive of the world, we can't imagine it going on without us -- without you and without me. But it will. It has survived the deaths of everyone from Plato to Abe Lincoln to Mother Teresa to John Kennedy and your old aunt and your parents and grandparents and everyone else who has gone before. Still, it's hard to take, no?

All we know is this life, whether we've lived it for good or ill, whether we've succeeded or failed, whether we've had good relations with our spouses/parents and/or children, etc. This is it. This life. We gave it our best shot. Now we're dead.

Give or take a good or bad decision or two not realized, this is our imprint on the planet.

The world will go on, maybe for centuries -- if you can imagine it: I can't -- with more and more children being born, with you (and me) receding into the far distant past, becoming just names instead of real people who led lives filled with difficult choices. We'll become names in diaries or headlines or on stones, if that. Eventually most of us will be forgotten, not only by history but even by our families. I know the names of my ancestors, but I have no idea how they lived their lives. And, in the future, no one is going to know how I lived mine or how how you lived yours.

So what?

We lived, we loved, we raised kids, we made the hard choices. Didn't we? Of course we did.

And we think we should be remembered for it. But stop and think: all those boys who got killed in WWI and WWII, whose bodies lie under oceans or under tons of mud. They were our fathers and grandfathers, fighting for our rights as a democracy, and they are beyond our planting flowers on their graves. We remember them through photos and letters; any way we can.

But they are gone, if not forgotten.

Think of those who are gone AND forgotten. The families shot and pushed into ditches by the Nazis. But the Nazis aren't the only ones to commit whole families, even whole villages, to horrible deaths. What do we do about THOSE people and families? They got no funerals, no weeping and remembrance. They were just shoveled into pits.

I think what all this means is that there may be something after death, but I don't know what it is. I don't know if we survive individually or as part of something larger than any of us. I can't think that none of our lives meant anything, since those of us still living find inspiration from some of the lives gone from this earth. I think, I hope, that it's more than we can imagine.

But it's still true that your passing, or mine, isn't going to stop the world from turning. It will cause grief to some of our relatives and friends, for a while, but life will continue, for them and for others not yet born.

I love the mystery, and I hope you do, too.

The dead often are forgotten, just because no one knows where they fell and are buried. Think of the thousands of Jews shot and pushed into burial pits. Think of -- you get the picture.

The world goes on without you, without me, no matter how elaborate our funeral, no matter how many heads of state pay tribute. A dead person is a dead person, and his or her fame on this earth has nothing to do with anything, since all this passes.

If there is any consolation in dying, it must be in the mystery of it all. Why was I here? What was I supposed to do? Why did I die? What happens now?

Nothing in science or philosophy gives a clue: faced with death, we are dumfounded. Even the smartest of us. We have no idea if we'll wake up again or just sleep forever.

No religion has credibly given an answer, although all try, so I guess the best we can do is be the most moral people we can and hope for the best, don't you think?

You don't want to know what others say about you when you're not there.

Trust me on this. You think you do, but you don't.

Say you've left an evening at a friend's house, you and your husband/wife/date/lover. You had dinner, you talked, remembered old times, gossiped about mutual friends, etc. If your partner for the evening was someone new, you and he/she had to talk about himself or herself a while, and you interjected positive comments where they seemed appropriate. Your friends seemed to have a good time and to approve of your husband/wife/date/lover. You exchange kisses and/or handshakes, maybe hugs, and head for the car.

Once in the car, you and your husband/wife/date/lover says, out of the blue, "I don't think they liked me." Or, "Well, I guess that went all right." Or, "I don't think I want to do this again." Or, "Why does she stay with him?" Or, "Am I mistaken, or is she a controlling bitch?" You and he/she spend the rest of the drive home arguing over these issues of real consequence that arose from this evening spent with this particular couple. Are they people you want to see again? Are they people who accept you as a couple? Are they themselves happy as a couple? Who are you? Who am I? Who are we? And on and on . . . blah blah blah.

It's the kind of stuff we have to talk about as we try to define who we are together as a couple as opposed to who we were individually. What view of the world and other people do we share?

But what about that other couple? Now that they're cleaning up their house and getting ready for bed, what are they REALLY saying about you and me --and about US?

If that concerns you, then you fall into one camp, called A: Those who care what others say about you/us. If you couldn't care less, you fall into the other camp, called B: Those who don't care what others say about you/us. What's the difference?

Plenty, when it comes to relationships. If you're an A married to a B, you're always going to worry about what you or your mate says or does in social gatherings. If you're a B married to an A, you're always going to be worrying about what you said or did that provoked this fight or this silence following said social gathering.

If you're an A married to an A, on the other hand, you're never going to have an interesting conversation at a party because you're always going to be worrying, ahead of time, about what you might say that might be offensive or taken the wrong way, etc. All chit chat and chips.

If you're a B married to a B, you're likely to get too drunk and say shocking things and not to be invited back to many parties, but that may be okay with the two of you, because you see these gatherings as silly and shallow anyway. You'll find your own open-minded friends.

Back to the original point: You don't want to know what others say about you when you're not there. Why not?

Because most of us are a lot more frank and brutal about our friends, behind their backs, than they know, or should know. We're harsh. We're judgmental. We tolerate our friends' flaws, but that doesn't mean that we don't notice, and condemn, them.

"Judy is the sweetest girl, and my oldest friend, but she has the morals of an eel."

"Jack's a good guy, but Jesus, what was he thinking with this stupid girl he brought over?"

"I wish a nickel for every time I've bailed my sister out. Why won't she just grow up?"

"How old is Mom anyway? Aren't most people dead by that age?"

"If Michelle asks me one more time why I don't re-do the kitchen, she's toast! Such a bitch!"

"I like your family, but do they have to visit so often? And bring those out-of-control kids?"

"He/she is your friend. I accept that. Just see him/her on your own time, okay?"

" I don't know how many more times I can do this. Can't we just move away?"

So how much of this do you want to hear? Wouldn't you rather just keep up the pretense that all if well between you and (a) your mother, (b) your father, (c) your kids, (d) your friends? Isn't if better, in the end, that we all put up with each other's flaws and faults and lamentable mistakes and miscalculations and go on being civil and even enjoying each other's company?

Take it from me: You don't want to know what others say about you when you're not there. And, in the end, it doesn't matter. Be yourself, assuming that you're being the best person you can be, and tune out the un-heard comments about you. If, on the other hand, you do worry about what's being said about you, it probably says more about you than about those who are talking about you.

Someone is always going to be talking about you. We're all humans, and our favorite pasttime, hands down, is talking about each other. We're observant, we're curious, we're judgmental. If you can't stand that kind of scrutiny, you need to go off somewhere in the mountains and live by yourself. But you'll be lonely, so get ready for it.

We are our best subjects of conjecture and conversation: We love each other, can't stand each other, are fascinated with each other, etc., etc., etc., ad infinitum. Without each other, there would be no marriages, no friendships, no civilizations. We are what matters.

And we are going to keep talking about each other as long as we exist on Earth.

But if we are to keep that freedom of expression going, we can't be monitored or censored, and we can't have those we talk about know what we're saying. Otherwise, we'll start lying, and we can't survive long as a species if we start doing that.

Live your life the best you can, and you won't have to worry about what others say about you.
You know who you are, and if you don't, well, you know what you have to do, right?