Leaving a legacy?

Bumped into an old acquaintance recently. As there was too much time to kill, rather than looking at each other, we decided to talk about stuff. One thing led to another till finally he spoke about a book that he was writing. Having too much time in his hands with tip-top condition of his mental capabilities as evidenced by his previous gargantuan presence in the university and the number of journal research papers to support, just rotting away into retirement just because the state uses other people's yardstick to assess seem just too wasteful. Rather than let the Devil set up workshop in his mind, he had embarked on a journey to honour the person he held close to his dear heart - his dear mother.
His mother's single-handed attempt to uplift her family from clutches of poverty, she, with her wisdom, albeit her handicap in the education department but not the desire to learn, managed to struggle through the tumultous times of pre-independent Malaya to provide for her offspring. This, she did even after she was widowed when the author was 17.
A heart stopping event happened during the World War 2. Her house was ambushed by Japanese soldiers. With so much of carnage around, she stood shielding her kids like a mother hen would. She thought all her migration to the new found motherland called Malaya had all come to zilch. She thought all the escapism from the poverty of Mother India was to meet its end. Just when she thought all hope was gone, one of the Japanese soldiers spotted the vermilion spot on her forehead! He started asking her questions in a incomprehensible language.  He started muttering, "Gandhi? Gandhi?" pointing at the dot on her forehead. Then it suddenly made sense. The Japanese had just made a peace pact with India. So, they all escaped the tyranny of the Japanese soldiers!
The book would eventually be out somewhere middle of the year after getting the nod from the rest of relatives who are inevitably mentioned in the progression of their life.
Just this year alone, I have seen two other friends who have had the opportunity to jot down the struggles of their parents who migrated to then Malaya. One of their parents migrated from Jaffna, worked in various estates in young Malaya, experienced the good times and the bad to bring up their children to be people of stature in society. He presented the struggles of his parents in a booklet during her eulogy after living close to 9 decades.
Another published a pictorial coffee table book displaying her collection of her mother's memorabilia and snap shots over the years, predating post World War 2.
I am sure many citizens of this country has their own family stories of their struggles and sacrifices. We should start inking them down so as to make the rest of country be aware that this country was developed not by politicians but by ordinary folks who toiled the sun, the rain, the disease and the hardship to propel this once back-water native land to its current near developed nation! Let the truth be known, lest not the sanitised hidden agenda ridden his-"STORY".