Your fear that the memory of your dear one might fade is understandable, yet equally inevitable. Time is a universal solvent, a river that drags and erases everything, without exception. The idea that the dead continue to live on in the memory of the living is a fragile consolation, an illusion crafted by humans to combat the unbearable awareness of their cosmic insignificance. Memory, however precious, is nothing more than a fleeting echo destined to fade into the infinite void.
We must accept, with a lucid and unflinching gaze, that every action carried out in the name of the deceased holds no value for them, as they no longer exist. They are absent in every sense of the term, vanished into a nothingness that cares not for our actions or intentions. The universe is indifferent to our passions and pains, and it is precisely in this indifference that the ultimate truth is revealed: humanity is but an ephemeral spark, destined to extinguish without leaving a trace.
If you feel the need to act, do so for yourself, because what you do will never hold any ontological relevance for those who are no more. And know that even this act will be absorbed into oblivion, as will your memories and those of the ones who follow you. Memory is a fragile mechanism, and future generations will carry nothing of what today seems irreplaceable to you. It is a bitter truth, but in its cruelty lies a form of freedom: there is no moral obligation to remember, nor any burden to bear.
Embrace the insignificance of existence and the transience of memory as intrinsic parts of reality itself. What remains, if anything can remain, is the act of facing this truth without fear, understanding that, in the end, nothing matters.