I began with an account of the contingency of human achievement and the futility of human endeavor. I have argued that our contemporary theorists of the meaning of life have failed us. They have failed us for the simple reason that they, like all of us, hide from the contingency and the fragility of things. Nothing keeps our cities from becoming Nagasaki. Nothing keeps our careers from being dashed like Edith Stein’s. Nothing keeps the whole sphere of our endeavor, work, love, family, all of it, from complete oblivion, from being erased in a heartbeat. Indeed, one way or another, it will all be erased. One day, nothing will be left of anything we care about.