I was here

I couldn’t believe what I was listening to…the voice of my grandfather from 1959.

The audio recording was a gift from my uncle. Apparently, my grandfather had recorded updates on reel-to-reel tapes to mail to my grandmother while she was still overseas. Hearing it stopped me cold.

Then I heard my mother’s voice. She was 27, singing to my three-year-old sister. A tear welled up. My mother left us when I was in my late twenties after a ten-year battle with cancer. For years, all I had of her voice was a single ten-second cassette clip, an introduction to a music mix she had made for my dad. Hearing her sing again felt like a small miracle.

About 15 or 20 years ago, when video cameras became smaller and more affordable, I decided to start recording family stories. I began with my Italian father-in-law, a man with remarkable stories from the Second World War and from life itself. His emotional, expressive storytelling was captivating.

I learned details of his life I had never known. And because my own mother had left us so early, I felt a deep responsibility to preserve this family’s history. I recorded not just his stories, but the family home—walking room by room, capturing the spaces that shaped their lives.

Then I recorded my mother-in-law. Her stories were equally compelling: bombs falling on London while she sheltered underground, meeting and marrying her husband, raising their first two children in a 10-by-20-foot chicken coop before immigrating to Canada for a better life.

After they had both passed away, the family began gathering every September for a weekend together. Watching those videos became part of the ritual. Hearing their voices and seeing their faces made it feel as though they were still with us—still part of the weekend.

Encouraged by that experience, I recorded my dad. Stories I had never heard emerged, and I am richer for knowing them. Now that he’s gone, that video is invaluable.

Over the years, I’ve recorded many other friends and relatives. I’ve found that children often don’t fully appreciate these recordings until their parents are much older. Grandchildren, on the other hand, are almost always deeply interested in learning who their grandparents were and where they came from.

I once watched an interview with an archaeologist who studied patterns across human history. When asked if there was one theme that stood out, she didn’t hesitate. It was simply this: “I was here.”

These videos can be recorded at any age, and I can’t recommend it enough. In fact, I’m seriously thinking of doing this for others.

Because hearing a grandfather’s voice for the first time—or listening to your 27-year-old mother sing, isn’t just nostalgic, it’s priceless.

It’s proof that you were here.