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To Be Truly Seen: What a Short Film About Connection Teaches Us - And Why It Still Matters

Updated: 4 days ago

“To be seen, to be heard, to be understood—these are some of the deepest needs of the human heart.”— Oprah Winfrey

In a world overflowing with noise, assumptions, and fast conclusions, every human being carries a quiet, powerful longing:


To be truly seen.


Not judged. Not dismissed. Not reduced to labels or misunderstandings. But seen - for who we really are beneath everything else.


A short film captures this truth with remarkable tenderness. It begins simply: a football accidentally landing in the garden of an elderly woman living alone. A young Black boy knocks on her door, expecting nothing more than his ball back. Instead, he finds a friendship that slowly transforms them both.


She sees his goodness, curiosity, and heart. He sees her loneliness, her humour, her stories, her humanity. Two lives, worlds apart, meet in a space where they become visible again.

It’s a reminder that visibility isn’t physical - it’s emotional.


To be seen is to be known.



“Nan created memories of Christmas that were truly magical.”— Ryan O'Neil Allen 

Credit: Cottonbro Studio


The first two photographs are of my late grandmother, Philomena (Pearl) Butler. The third photograph shows my great-grandmother standing with my mother, Lorna.


A Personal Memory of Being Seen


The film resonates with me because it mirrors something deeply personal - something held quietly in the background of my own life.


My late grandmother - formally known as Philomena Butler, though to me she was simply Nanny - lived in a beautiful home in Great Barr, Birmingham, West Midlands, UK. She loved her flowers, her home, and the warmth she created within it. There was a dignity about her, a kind of strength wrapped in grace, the sort of presence that made you feel safe just by stepping through her door.


Some of my most vivid memories of her come from Christmas. I can still picture the dining table glowing with candlelight, the soft flicker dancing across shiny bowls filled with warm food, steam rising like little signals of comfort. My aunties (Joy, Dorothy, Elaine, Arlene) and uncle (Andrew) gathered around, their smiles bright, their laughter spilling across the room like music. The plates, the colours, the scents… everything felt alive. Everything felt held together by her.


And in the middle of it all, Nanny saw me.

Not the surface, not the noise of the world, not the roles people put on me - but me. There was something in the way she looked at me that made me feel recognised, even before I understood the meaning of the word.


I didn’t get to be by her side in her final days, a quiet ache that never fully disappears, but her presence remains with me. Love like hers doesn’t fade; it becomes part of your inner landscape. I know she prepared a will, though I was never told its contents and never received anything myself - yet what stays with me most is the memory of her presence and the way she made me feel truly seen. That remains a silent thread in the story of her passing. But her true legacy wasn’t paper - it was the way she made me feel visible, valued, and understood.


Those candlelit Christmas evenings, those smiles and moments of belonging, are the memories that stay with me. They remind me that being seen is one of the greatest gifts we can give or receive.



Why Being Seen Matters More Than We Admit


The film’s message - and my own memories - share a profound truth:

To be seen is one of the deepest forms of human connection.

When someone sees you:


  • Your worth is acknowledged

  • Your story is honoured

  • Your existence feels meaningful


The elderly woman in the film offers the boy that recognition. He offers it right back. And in the end, her will reflects what she saw in him - something pure, something real.

Connection doesn’t need loud declarations. It is carried in presence, in kindness, in understanding.


Carl Rogers, American psychologist (1902-1987)
Carl Rogers, American psychologist (1902-1987)

“When someone really hears you without passing judgment… without trying to take responsibility for you, without trying to mould you, it feels damn good.” - Carl Rogers


Humanity Lives in These Small Moments


We often mistake visibility for fame or attention. But real visibility is intimate:

An elderly neighbour whose stories matter. A child whose potential shines if someone looks closely. A grandmother whose love still shapes the adults we become.


People fade when the world stops looking. But they come alive again when even one person truly sees them.


Age disappears. Race dissolves. Differences quieten.

What remains is the shared truth of being human.



A Final Thought


We all carry unseen histories. We all hold pieces of ourselves that we quietly protect. And most of us move through life simply wanting someone to recognise the world inside us.

Films like this - and people like my Nanny - teach us that:


  • To be seen is to be valued.

  • To see someone is to offer them dignity.

  • And those who see us deeply never truly leave us.


Their recognition stays.

Their love becomes memory.

And their memory becomes light.





 
 
 

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