The Value of Family

Have you ever paused to think about the moments that truly shape our lives? For most of us, it’s the relationships we build and the memories we share with our loved ones.

For thousands of years, humans have relied on family to take care of us. Our bonds with our family are ancient and deep, forming the core of who we become. We inherit genetics, and learn behaviours and lessons about life from those who raise us. It's our parents' responsibility to provide for us, meeting our basic needs and offering unconditional love.

As we grow, we continue this cycle, creating our own families by bringing new life into the world.

Navigating the Inevitable: Aging and Loss

However, as we age, so do those we love - this is nature’s way. This inevitable part of life is one we often avoid discussing, yet encountering the loss of a loved one is a life changing event.

While one of life’s hardest experiences, it also offers us a moment to reflect and celebrate the lives that have made such an impact on ours. Funerals, while sombre, provide a beautiful chance to say goodbye and share memories and stories, keeping those memories alive.

My Personal Journey with Loss

My own encounters with loss have inspired me to revolutionize how we remember our loved ones. It occurred to me, that even when we share stories between ourselves, we are storing these memories organically in our brains and they will eventually fade or dissapear even still.

Digital never dies - and thanks to modern technology we now have the ability to eternalise the stories of our loved ones forever.

My Grandfather - Bert

Unfortunately my paternal grandfather, Bert, passed away before I was born. I never met him. There is so much unknown to me about his life, as the rest of my family never spoke much about Bert. While I wasn’t around to experience the loss of my grandather, there’s a grandparent shaped hole in my family history I will never be able to fill.

“Nanny” - Elsie

My first real encounter with loss was at a young age when my paternal Grandmother, Elsie, passed away. Though I knew her only as a child, she was a wonderful woman—strong and stern on the surface, but loving and caring her family. She made sure to always keep a stock of little trifles in the fridge for me when I visited, thanks nanny!

I can picture her still, sitting in her floral armchair, nose deep in this week’s £1000 crossword competition. Across from her, an old-fashioned box-TV, exuding a low staticky hum while often playing an episode of Noel Edmond’s “Deal or No Deal.” To her right sat a masterfully constructed arsenal of knowledge, encyclopedias on birds, fish, planets, and more to help her when she got stuck.

While visiting, my sister and I used to raid the cupboard under the stairs, which hosted Nanny’s impressive scarf collection. We’d tie them around our limbs from head to toe, transforming into adorable “scarf monsters”.

I missed my nan when she was gone, but I was too young to fully process her passing. She died peacefully in her 90s, so her passing didn’t come as a suprise to me, and life continued on.

“Dad” - Simon

My father was a fascinating man, kind and loving, a builder by trade with a great mind. He was well-known and respected in our hometown, Selsey. Throughout my childhood, seemingly random people would stop him on the street to chat, and he would explain how he knew them, often citing building work he had completed on their houses. He would often point at houses and say things like, “I did their extension when they had a baby a few years ago.”

He was the life of any party, fantastically social, with a wonderful sense of humor. Anyone he hadn’t met through his work, he had met down the pub, where he liked to live life to its fullest.

My mother shared with me a story on the topic of my dad’s sociability and love to party. From a holiday to Durdle Door in Dorset one summer:

“We were walking home from a local bar at night when your father heard music nearby. Figuring there must be a party around, he followed the sound until he stumbled on a house party—the front door was wide open. He took that as an invitation, confidently strolled in, introduced himself to the guests, and joined the party—much to my dismay! We bumped into the chef of the hotel we were staying at, a French man who insisted we try his breakfast the following morning. Simon explained that we weren’t early risers, but the chef insisted, telling him to come downstairs and ask for him by name after the kitchen had closed.”

According to my mother, the full English breakfast was indeed quite delectable!

There’s no doubt that my father’s love to party and relationship with alcohol was influenced by his parents, Bert and Elsie, who were pub landlords during his childhood. Sadly, this impacted many of his relationships, including his marriage to my mother, which ended in divorce a few years after I was born. His relationship with alcohol worsened as I grew into my teenage years, impacted no doubt by the loss of his mother, and then brother. As he was drunk more and more often, I saw him less and less. By the time I left for university, the rift between us had grown to where we hardly spoke or saw each other.

After graduating, I found out my father was dying from liver failure - years of drinking had finally caught up to him. I visited him at the hospice with my sister, and we said our goodbyes. He was incoherent, but he was still there. Strangely, the loss didn’t impact me greatly at the time; as I felt in a sense that I had already lost him to his addiction in my teenage years.

As I have grown older, and viewed the world through an adult lens, the sense of loss I have felt has grown. I have come to have a better understanding of life itself and his personal struggles. I’ve found forgiveness and empathy for my father. The true Simon was often lost under his addiction. I’m grateful for all he provided and the good memories from my childhood - from silly things like attempting to pry a pound coin from his strong builder fists, to his improvised bedtime stories - especially the one about penguins buying fish from the market in Antarctica.

My sense of loss has grown as I realize I never had the chance to have an adult relationship with my father. I wish I could have conversations with him, from hearing his childhood stories, to his adult wisdom and philosophies - even just to hear his voice and see him laugh.

The Birth Of Eternal Films

Ultimately, this is why I founded Eternal Films. I’ve made it my mission to capture the life stories of others, safeguarding against the inevitable loss of these stories and memories. Sadly, my kids will never meet their grandfather or watch his life story film, but for others, it’s not too late.

Family history is important. It’s identity. It’s who we are and where we come from. It’s the ability to see their life through their eyes, to connect with and understand our elders, to learn and grow from their wisdom, and sadly, once it’s gone, it’s gone.

If you would like to find out more about eternalising your loved one’s legacy, please contact me via email at kurtis@eternalfilms.co.uk

Founder’s Story: Why Did I Start Recording Life Stories?