My Accidentally Selfish Gift

We recently celebrated my Grandparents 60th wedding anniversary; fifty people from four generations all coming together in a small hall in one of Canberra’s leafy suburbs to celebrate those two amazing people who have loved each other for longer than any of the rest of us have been alive.

A little over a year before, they had moved out of the home we’d always known - their beautiful two-storey house in Scullin, with the perfectly maintained garden, the carport, and the front porch that I will always be able to recall to my memory and feel as though I’m standing back there, ringing the doorbell after climbing the stairs. I can walk around their house in my mind, and every part of it is filled with happy memories. That house, and these two remarkable people, have been such a source of constancy. I can hear the creaking of the swingset that doubled as our rocket ship, and smell the lemons growing on the enormous tree near the swing seat. There was always a dog running around the yard, and grandchildren everywhere whenever we visited. I can hear the crack of pool balls in the rumpus room, see the pattern on the carpet, and feel the joy of a cupboard opened to reveal a hidden box of toys or yarn, depending on how old I was at the time. Oh, and the biscuit tin! I don’t think there were ever raisin cookies in Grandma’s biscuit tin, always tic toc biscuits, and we were always allowed to take a second one (but just one more!)

We had taken the opportunity after they decided to sell the house to capture something we had wanted for a while: an interview-style video where we just asked them everything. All those questions we had, things we had talked about over the years but I couldn’t retain the details of; the stories they told that I wanted to be able to hear again and again, and things I’d never gotten the chance to sit down and ask. We sent out a group message to aunties and uncles, parents, siblings and cousins, and gathered a massive list of all the questions we had. I sat in the garden with my Grandma while Danny interviewed my Grandpa, and then looked through the almost-packed study with Grandpa while he interviewed my Grandma. I think he took about six hours of footage between two cameras. Meanwhile, I got to say goodbye to the house, spending time with each of my grandparents in that space for the last time, sitting and talking and remembering. I don’t know if there was something special about the timing, as they were probably already thinking over the past forty-plus years spent in that house, or if it was just the beauty of asking people who have lived well what has been important in their lives, but the end result was just beautiful.

I know that a sad element of what drove Danny to do such an incredible job on this (very) personal project was losing two of his three remaining grandparents in a very short time the year before we filmed. He’d deeply regretted not being able to travel back to New Zealand and do something similar with them before they passed away. Somehow he turned that personal sense of loss into creating something incredible for my extended family.

Most people don’t have a videographer-husband to put something like this together, so I’m deeply aware of how lucky we are. We have a movie-length film of two of the most precious people in my life sharing their stories (and yes, it is literally movie length - it somehow ended up going for an hour and thirty-four minutes!) It was supposed to be a gift for them, but I think it turned into the most selfish gift I’ve ever given. It may actually be my most treasured possession.

Cinema Advertisement for Heirloom Films

Our dear friend, Simon Cunich, runs Heirloom Films in Canberra and Sydney and actually creates these films as his job. We often work with him, editing the finer details, and get to see the beautiful job he does of capturing the personalities, stories, and lives of other people’s loved ones. We put together a short advert for Simon back in 2016, and cannot speak highly enough of him.

Now, more than ever, I understand just how special a keepsake like this is.