The random chance that this 4.5 billion year-old sphere would randomly take up orbit at this precise distance from this sun and just as randomly develop an oxygen atmosphere and that in the last 10,000 years a single strain of mammal could, against all odds, prevail to become, if ever so briefly, the dominate species, a species which is apparently unique in its awareness of itself but yet is subject to the same unalterable lifecycle as the flowers in my garden, with a beginning, middle and end, and finally my personal realization that there is nothing coming after, that I am bound by the same natural laws as all living things, that life is fleeting and dead is dead; all of this serves only to increase my conviction that what we do here, now, between ourselves, is the only meaning there is.
No one, even a mere, single generation removed, will know, care or remember what passes between us today, nor should they. Life exists in this moment. What I do within each moment is all there is. Everything else doesn’t matter a damn.