Where Does Everything Go?

Now there was a girl when I was young who lived in the next block and who used to pass our door every day on her way back and forth from school. I remember that her name was Phyllis. She used to wear a blue skirt and a blue blazer and a crisp white Catholic school blouse, and the pocket of her blouse was always stained with blue ink from a leaky fountain pen. She had very large, very round eyes, and I remember too---or at least I think I remember---that they were also blue like ink. And even though I was much younger than Phyllis, an ungainly boy to her blossoming teenager, she did not turn away and avert her gaze the way older kids always did, but instead she would look directly into my eyes and smile the brightest smile I had ever seen in my very young life and whisper "Hello". That was over forty years ago, but I've never forgotten.

Where O Where Dear Lord does everything finally go to?