My grandfather has passed away. He's lucky if I think of him once a month. He'll be really lucky if I will remember what his voice sounded like. Given another 100 years I'll not be thought of except for the books I wrote or songs I composed. Or if I'm 'successful,' the millions I make and the children I have.
Life has no point.
Beyond that thought, the whole idea that life should have a point is moot. We're simply a part of a cycle. Whatever we do, the cycle will go on. If there is no point, if the idea, even, of life having a point, is fallacious, then it also has no meaning. Without a goal, there is no final destination, and without that, any journey is never completed, and never has any direction.