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My dad died 47 days ago. His hologram was filmed 4 years ago with the intention that he was being immortalized for posterity. I miss you dad.  Read entire post below 47 days ago, my father, Michael Nussbaum, passed away. Four years ago, I invited him to our Proto studio to record a hologram of himself. He opened with these words: “Hello, my name is Michael Nussbaum. I’m David Nussbaum’s proud father, and I’m here at Proto to be immortalized for posterity. It’s so exciting.” At the time, we smiled at those words. We knew we were capturing something special, but I don’t think either of us fully understood just how special it would become. For the next few minutes, my dad talked about his life, his family, his grandchildren, and the things that mattered most to him. And at the very end, my mother joined him inside the hologram so they could dance together for eternity. Four years later, those words, “immortalized for posterity,” have become a reality. My dad is gone. But I can still see him standing there, life-sized, smiling, talking, laughing, and telling his story in his own voice. Healthy. Happy. Pain-free. Exactly how I want to remember him. I’ve spent years telling the world that Proto is about connecting people across distance. That our technology can bring people together in ways that were once unimaginable. But I never fully appreciated what it could mean to connect people across generations. Until now. As a founder, I’ve always been excited about what we’re building and where this technology is going. As a son, I’m simply grateful that I get to see and hear my dad again. And it makes me think about the future. Imagine a child being able to meet a great-grandparent who passed away decades before they were born. Not just through an old photograph or a story passed down, but by seeing them life-sized, hearing their voice, watching their expressions, and listening to them tell their own story. Imagine the comfort that might bring to a grieving family. Or the incredible gift of preserving someone’s personality, wisdom, humor, and love for generations that haven’t even been born yet. A hologram can’t replace a person. It can’t bring someone back. And it certainly can’t take away the pain of losing them. But perhaps it can help us hold on to a little more of what makes them who they are. Their voice. Their smile. Their stories. Their presence. I started Proto because I believed people should be able to be anywhere, anytime. I never imagined that one of the most meaningful things this technology would do would be to help me preserve a piece of my own father. Dad, you said you were here to be immortalized for posterity. You were right. And someday, your grandchildren’s grandchildren may stand in front of your hologram, hear you introduce yourself, and get to know the man who started it all. I love you, Dad. And I’m so glad we made this hologram.
My dad died 47 days ago. His hologram was filmed 4 years ago with the intention that he was being immortalized for posterity. I miss you dad. Read entire post below 47 days ago, my father, Michael Nussbaum, passed away. Four years ago, I invited him to our Proto studio to record a hologram of himself. He opened with these words: “Hello, my name is Michael Nussbaum. I’m David Nussbaum’s proud father, and I’m here at Proto to be immortalized for posterity. It’s so exciting.” At the time, we smiled at those words. We knew we were capturing something special, but I don’t think either of us fully understood just how special it would become. For the next few minutes, my dad talked about his life, his family, his grandchildren, and the things that mattered most to him. And at the very end, my mother joined him inside the hologram so they could dance together for eternity. Four years later, those words, “immortalized for posterity,” have become a reality. My dad is gone. But I can still see him standing there, life-sized, smiling, talking, laughing, and telling his story in his own voice. Healthy. Happy. Pain-free. Exactly how I want to remember him. I’ve spent years telling the world that Proto is about connecting people across distance. That our technology can bring people together in ways that were once unimaginable. But I never fully appreciated what it could mean to connect people across generations. Until now. As a founder, I’ve always been excited about what we’re building and where this technology is going. As a son, I’m simply grateful that I get to see and hear my dad again. And it makes me think about the future. Imagine a child being able to meet a great-grandparent who passed away decades before they were born. Not just through an old photograph or a story passed down, but by seeing them life-sized, hearing their voice, watching their expressions, and listening to them tell their own story. Imagine the comfort that might bring to a grieving family. Or the incredible gift of preserving someone’s personality, wisdom, humor, and love for generations that haven’t even been born yet. A hologram can’t replace a person. It can’t bring someone back. And it certainly can’t take away the pain of losing them. But perhaps it can help us hold on to a little more of what makes them who they are. Their voice. Their smile. Their stories. Their presence. I started Proto because I believed people should be able to be anywhere, anytime. I never imagined that one of the most meaningful things this technology would do would be to help me preserve a piece of my own father. Dad, you said you were here to be immortalized for posterity. You were right. And someday, your grandchildren’s grandchildren may stand in front of your hologram, hear you introduce yourself, and get to know the man who started it all. I love you, Dad. And I’m so glad we made this hologram.

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