The Day I Lost Six Years of Memories

While the photos were gone, the memories still lived in my heart. And that, at least, is something no hard drive can erase.

My “Oh No” Moment

This morning, my Home Minister (a.k.a. my wife) asked me to retrieve photos of our daughter from a certain event. This was hardly surprising as I’m the designated keeper of all family photos, carefully storing them in the cloud. Confidently, I assured her it was no problem.

But when I checked my cloud account, I noticed the photos only went back to 2017. The ones my wife wanted? From 2012 or 2013.

No problem, I thought. They must be in one of my external hard disks. I went searching, only to discover, to my horror, that the photos on my drives stopped at 2010. Where were the ones from 2011 to 2016?

My heart sank. I started to panic. I combed through every external hard drive I owned, desperately hoping I had stored them somewhere else. Nothing.

Then it hit me. The Time Machine drive.

I had once converted one of my external hard disks into a Time Machine backup for my Mac. And I suddenly remembered the painful truth: when a drive is formatted for Time Machine, all existing data is erased. The configuration is unique, and once the conversion happens, the previous data is essentially wiped out.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed. My worst fear had come true.

Reluctantly, I informed my Home Minister.

I was met with a barrage of "Why did you—?" and "Why didn’t you—?" questions. I had no good answers. My heart sank even lower.

A Flashback to 2012

As I sat there, overwhelmed with regret, I found myself transported back to 2012. I remembered a particular family trip to Western Australia. It was my children’s first time on a plane and their first time travelling overseas. Both my son and daughter were hesitant at first, gripping my hand and my wife’s hand tightly as the plane took off. But within minutes, their fear melted away, replaced by sheer delight as they looked out the window, mesmerised by the vast sky and the cotton-like clouds below.

Their laughter echoed in my mind as I sat there, realising that those precious snapshots were now lost forever. How many other irreplaceable moments had I just erased? The birthdays, the vacations, the everyday candid snapshots of my kids growing up. It wasn’t just digital files I had lost. I had lost a part of my family’s history.

Desperate Attempts at Recovery

Determined not to give up, I reached out to a few Mac experts. They were helpful, but no closer to finding a solution.

I turned to ChatGPT. It confirmed my worst fears: once converted, the original data was most likely overwritten. But there was a glimmer of hope as some residual data might still be there. ChatGPT suggested several recovery options, and I followed each one diligently, step by step. Nothing.

I was devastated.

At first, I clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, I had saved them somewhere else. Had I uploaded them to an old online storage service? Had I burned any onto DVDs back when that was still a thing? I racked my brain, grasping at anything that might offer a shred of hope. I checked old email attachments, even searched through my old phone for any chance that I had saved some. But the truth was undeniable. I had been careless, and now I had to face the consequences.

Lessons in Loss and Acceptance

My family was upset, and I didn’t blame them. It was my fault. I had assumed I had backed everything up before converting the drive. Six years of memories, gone. I can’t turn back time. I can’t relive those moments. The photos are lost forever.

For a while, I wallowed in regret. I replayed all the "what ifs" in my head. What if I had double-checked before converting the drive? What if I had used multiple backups? What if I had been more meticulous?

But eventually, I told myself: I did everything I could to solve this matter. Regret won’t change history. What I can do is learn from this painful mistake and to always double-check, triple-check before making irreversible changes.

From now on, I will be more meticulous. I will create multiple backups, in different locations, across different platforms. I will not rely on a single method to store precious memories. And I will never, ever assume that my data is safe unless I verify it first.

And most importantly, I will continue to capture and cherish new memories. While losing six years of photos is heartbreaking, it’s also a lesson I won’t forget. Maybe, just maybe, sharing my story will help someone else avoid making the same mistake.

In the end, I realised that while the photos were gone, the memories still lived in my heart. And that, at least, is something no hard drive can erase.