It's okay,

because when you die, people will take your possessions, your kitchen plates, your empty glass jars, your rings, your canes, and they will use them. They'll eat dinner on your plates after washing them and airing out the water and your warm soul that remained in there. The plate is now cold and the sunlight bears witness of its old fork and knife scratches. And then the people will dine and have an estates sale, and a young girl will carry bundles of dollars and find your jingling manual machine that sings an old American melody. She doesn't have enough money, but the people tell her that tomorrow will be their final sale and they'll reduce all prices. She heard that patience is a good thing, so she tries to be patient. She places the machine down and goes home in the cold, autumn wind. When she returns the next day, the jingling machine is gone.