Your life matters. Share your story.
Everyone’s life matters. We all have stories to tell and knowledge to share with others, especially with those we love. Stories connect us to each other, to the past, to our history.
Time passes whether we acknowledge it or not. Caught up in life’s routine, we don’t always notice – until life sends us a wake-up call. It could be a scare, like a serious diagnosis or unexpected illness, or a happy event like a milestone birthday or anniversary. We suddenly become very aware of the years slipping away.
Memories are precious, but their details fade. You might remember a vague story about someone you love, but the details are fleeting and vague. If you can’t pick up the phone to ask about them, that story is gone.
My grandparents passed when I was a teenager. My parents have been gone almost a decade. I wish I had taken the time to sit down with them individually when I had the chance, to talk with them, to get to know the people they were. To hear them talk about their successes, their fears, and their outlook on life. What was their favourite food? Colour? Childhood memory? These questions won’t be answered if we don’t make time to listen. Make time to ask the questions, listen to the stories and to learn from what has come before. I missed my chance. Don’t miss yours.
Let's Talk About Your Story
Do you know how your parents met? Your grandmother’s middle name? What was it like to grow up during a World War, or worse yet – to fight in one? Let’s find out. It would be my honour to help you or someone you love to record their story, their wisdom, their voice to help you and your family remember.
I lost my Mom almost ten years ago. She lived with ALS for three years and taught me how to face life and its challenges with gratitude, humility and grace. During Mom’s illness I promised myself that if I could help it, I would not have regrets after she died....
Our cleaning lady has vacuumed my office for the last time. After a life of hard work, her retirement starts today. She always has a smile and a kind word for all. “Laaaasst daaay!” I sing as she enters my cubicle. Her smile says it all. “Are you excited?” Her...
As I root through my bedside table - the place where I keep sentimental things - familiar handwriting catches my eye. Dad’s printing. I know it is a letter by the way it is folded, the yellow foolscap is wrinkled and bent. I unfold it carefully, unexpectedly...