“Story of Marie”: Legacy, Loss, and Becoming a Filmmaker

This one is personal.

Last year, in the middle of a big life transition—leaving Hawai‘i, leaving military life, and figuring out what came next—my family and I landed in Virginia, staying with my grandmother, Marie. We needed rest. We needed family. We needed space to recalibrate after so many months of movement.

What we didn’t expect was how healing that season of life would become.

My grandfather had passed away just a couple of years earlier from COVID, and my grandmother's house had grown quiet. Too quiet. So we moved in. Our daughter Ava got time with her great-grandmother. Chris, as always, supported every piece of the puzzle. And I started work on something that had been on my heart for a long time: telling my grandmother’s story.

What started as a small idea became a 30-minute documentary film called “Story of Marie”—a film I shot, lit, recorded, and edited myself on next to no budget. The only gear I splurged on was a $500 light. Everything else was pure resourcefulness, deep love, and a whole lot of heart.

Marie is more than my grandmother’s name—it’s the middle name passed down through four generations of women in our family. Her story is part of my story. And telling it became a way to preserve her voice, her strength, and her legacy not just for us—but for her. For her to see her own life honored.

One moment I’ll never forget: filming the scene at my grandfather’s gravesite. It was painful, raw. But something about speaking her truth aloud—something about being witnessed—felt cathartic. This wasn’t just about documenting history. It was about allowing her grief and love to take up space.

And when the film was finished, we celebrated the best way we knew how—we rented out a small theater at Regal Cinemas, the very place my grandparents went on dates nearly every week. We gathered about 20 or so family members, screened the film in that sacred space, and then went out for dinner together. It was intimate, emotional, and one of the proudest moments of my life.

This project also marked a huge turning point for me professionally. It gave me the confidence to own the title: documentary filmmaker. It helped me push past limiting beliefs and realize that telling meaningful stories—my kind of stories—doesn’t require a massive budget or a perfect plan. It just requires heart and vision.

“Story of Marie” was even accepted by a PBS station in West Virginia, but due to music licensing, I can’t air it on public television just yet. Still, I’m hopeful. I dream of one day reworking the soundtrack—maybe even creating original music using AI tools—and giving my grandmother the joy of seeing her story on TV.

For now, the film lives online, and you can watch it here on YouTube.

This is why Media Evolve exists. To honor the personal, the emotional, the stories that often go untold. Sometimes, those stories start at home.