Keeping Them Alive Through Story…
Why Our Memories Matter More Than We Think
Some stories stay with us long after the people who lived them are gone. And sometimes, it isn’t until we gather together (at a reunion, a holiday, or a moment of remembrance) that we feel just how deeply those stories root us, connect us, and keep our loved ones alive.
This week, I felt that in a very real way.
We were at my husband’s family reunion and it was one of those gatherings where old photos and old memories start flying around the room like sparks. His grandmother passed away earlier this year, and his aunt brought a box of photos and treasures she’d found in her mother’s things.
Inside was a journal his great-grandmother kept on a trip to California. One of the cousins had digitized it. People were laughing, pointing at photos, piecing together names and timelines. Watching everyone pass those images around reminded me of something I talk about often on the podcast: storytelling as preservation.
The Stories That Keep Us Alive
There’s a phrase I love, one that shows up in the movie Coco and in many cultural traditions:
We die twice - once when we leave this world, and again when people stop saying our name.
After losing my father-in-law almost ten years ago, our family still talks about him constantly. Even my daughters, who never met him, know him - really know him - through the stories we share. We say “your grandpa” as if he just stepped out of the room. We repeat his sayings, his quirks, the things he loved.
Because we say his name, he stays with us.
And honestly, I know him better now through these shared stories than I did when he was alive. That’s what storytelling does. It keeps people living in us long after they’re gone.
It makes me wonder:
How do we honour that? How do we make sure those stories don’t fade?
When Photos Spark Something Bigger
At the reunion, people gathered around a table passing photos back and forth - laughing, remembering, correcting each other (“No, that was ’92!”), telling the stories behind the snapshots.
The photos weren’t the point.
They were the spark.
A single image can unlock an entire memory. A whole era. A whole person.
I kept imagining how, in movies, a character looks at an old photo and suddenly the picture comes to life. The scene blooms, and you’re pulled right into it. That’s what it felt like.
And it made me think:
What if we created something like that for my father-in-law’s ten-year anniversary?
Nothing elaborate - just scanned photos paired with small stories from the people who loved him most. A simple, sacred book his grandchildren could hold years from now.
Our lives move fast, and memories blur. But when we pause long enough to look back, the clarity returns.
Collecting Memories in Our Everyday Lives
Every year, we create a simple Chatbooks photo book - no long captions, no journaling. Just pictures and dates:
February 2024.
March 2024.
April 2024.
Simple, but priceless.
Because when we flip through them, someone always says,
“Oh right, remember that day?”
or
“I forgot that happened!”
Life moves so quickly. Our memories deserve a place to land.
And that’s why this project - this small desire to create something for the ten-year milestone - feels important. Not heavy. Not performative. Just a way to keep someone we love alive on the page.
Why Storytelling Still Matters (And Always Has)
Long before books, cameras, or written language, there were stories.
Stories shared around fires.
Stories etched into walls.
Stories sung, whispered, passed down through generations.
Stories were how we preserved wisdom, identity, connection, and meaning. It’s how we survived - both practically and emotionally.
In a world that moves at breakneck speed, where memories can vanish into digital noise, we can’t lose that.
Storytelling is one of the last things that makes us deeply human.
Our stories matter.
Our photos matter.
The act of remembering matters.
A Gentle Invitation
This post wasn’t meant to give you homework.
It was simply a reminder.
A reminder that your stories matter.
That the people you’ve loved matter.
That the memories tucked inside albums or buried in your camera roll are part of the fabric of who you are.
And I’d genuinely love to hear from you:
Do you have a way you collect or preserve your memories?
Have you created something that helped keep a loved one’s story alive?
I’d love your ideas as I explore how to honour this ten-year milestone for our family.
And if this sparked something in you, maybe take a moment this holiday season to pull out your own photo books. Sit with your family. Flip through the pages. Ask questions. Tell stories. Laugh. Cry. See each other in a new light.
Because nothing connects us more deeply than the stories we share.
✨ You can listen to this episode on the Own Your Story Podcast, or learn more about The Mothertelling Academy here.
