The Stories That Changed Me as a Creator
- Astha

- Jul 29
- 3 min read
What My Father's Story Taught Me About Listening
Some stories change the person who tells them. Others change the person who listens. For me, one of the stories that has stayed with me most deeply is my father's (papa).
I remember watching him share stories from his youth. He talked about his childhood, education, moves, lessons learned, and the people he met. It was about the life he built and who he became.
As he spoke, I found myself seeing him differently, not just as my papa. Watching someone you’ve known forever become a storyteller is beautiful. And what struck me most wasn't what he remembered; it was the enthusiasm with which he remembered it.
He was a sporty, active, and athletic child. He stepped into his career by a lucky opportunity; that decision took him far from home and loved ones. He created a life from his education, intelligence, and sheer hard work. I have heard these stories before. Hearing them then, in his own voice and with all he had lived since, made me listen in a new way.
I wasn't hearing history; I was hearing a life.
We Often Know Our Parents Only as Parents
This happens in many families - we know our parents as Mum and Dad. We know our grandparents as Grandma and Grandpa. But before they became those people to us, they were someone else.
We ask about those parts of their lives. But when we take the time to listen, something remarkable happens. The person we thought we knew becomes a little more complete.
We see where their values came from. We learn why education mattered, why some traditions were important, and why they made the choices they did. We begin to see the connections between the person they were and the person they became.
And in doing so, we understand ourselves a little better too.
The Stories Behind the Person
That experience with my papa changed the way I think about storytelling. It reminded me that the most important part of a story isn't always the event itself. It's the meaning behind it.
When he spoke about his education, I was learning about what learning meant to him. When he spoke about his younger years, I was understanding the experiences that helped shape the person I know today.
This is why I believe listening is the first chapter of every meaningful story. You can't truly tell someone's story until you've taken the time to understand it. And sometimes, understanding begins with asking:
"What was your life like before I knew you?"
It is such a simple question.
But it can open the door to an entire lifetime of memories.
What We Leave Behind
I think we sometimes underestimate what future generations will want to know about us. We think they'll want the big moments, the successes, and the official story of our lives. But I suspect they will want something much simpler. They will want to know what made us laugh, what we believed in, and what we learned the hard way.
They will want to hear us speak. Not because every word is profound, but because it is ours. That's what my papa's story reminded me of.
The greatest gift involves more than preserving the photograph. It's preserving the person behind it, the voice, the memories, and the perspective.
The little details that may never appear in a photograph but are what make life uniquely ours.
Why I Listen
Today, when I sit with someone and listen to their story, I think about that conversation with my papa. I remember how it felt to see someone I had known all my life through a different lens.
And I think about how many people carry stories that have never been asked for. The stories sitting quietly and waiting for someone to say:
"Tell me about your life."
That is what continues to shape me as a creator.
Because the more I listen, the more I believe this:
Our stories don't just show future generations our roots; they help them know who they are.
And sometimes, the stories that change us most are the ones we take the time to hear.




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