Several years after my grandmother, Agnes, died, my uncle visited her cousin, Ani, to ask her to fill in some gaps in his knowledge of family history. Agnes immigrated from Hungary to the US in the wake of WWII when she was just twenty. Her mother had died in a bombing and her father stayed in Hungary. She remained steadfastly devoted to her mother land, raising her children with its food, language, traditions, and Presbyterian religion. Though she kept Hungary present in her daily life, my grandmother’s actual past there remained only vaguely articulated. Through dogged persistence, my uncle eventually elicited an account of the past from Ani. Fifty years after she had been sworn to secrecy by my grandmother, Ani revealed the truth; Agnes had been Jewish and had survived the concentration camps. This film chronicles the way that each member of my family has responded to the revelation of my grandmother’s secret past. We have each endeavored separately to make some meaning from her story. This documentary seeks to combine those efforts into a larger, more cohesive whole: to reconfigure an image of my grandmother and our family. The greatest glaring obstacle to understanding for both my family and documentary is that we do not have access to our primary subject. My grandmother died eighteen years ago– but as long as she lived, she would never have told. Our discovery was predicated on her death, on the impossibility of hearing her first-person account. This documentary can only be a record of a speculative version of the past and subjectivity of my grandmother based on second-hand accounts that must substitute memories of a trauma we cannot fathom.