How Remento Helped Me Preserve My Mother’s Voice Forever

My mom, Cathy, was my best friend, my safe place, and the person whose voice I never wanted to lose. Over the past twelve years, her health battles took our family on a long, uncertain journey. It was a time filled with miracles, setbacks, hope, and heartbreak. When we learned her time was limited, I became determined to preserve her stories in the only way that truly felt like her: in her own voice.

The Problem We Faced

My mom’s first diagnosis came over a decade ago: Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis. It is a rare and serious liver disease with no cure aside from a transplant. Her health declined slowly but steadily. 

Then, something miraculous happened: she received a liver transplant while in the hospital. She recovered beautifully and returned to herself in ways we hadn’t dared to hope for. Our family was overjoyed, and we embraced those bonus years with deep gratitude.

How We Discovered Remento

But in September 2024, mom was diagnosed with Plasmablastic Lymphoma. It was aggressive and rare, and we knew the road ahead would be hard. That’s when I started searching for a way to preserve her stories.

I looked at several platforms, but none of them were a good fit for us. Writing-heavy tools like Storyworth weren’t feasible — given mom’s health, she couldn’t be expected to type out her stories. I knew that assigning her a year of writing answers to questions about her life would feel like homework to her, and for that reason, probably wouldn’t get done. And anyway, I wanted more than a written book of my mom’s memories and stories.

I didn’t want to lose her voice, her memories, her way of telling things. I wanted something that could hold her presence — not just for me, but for our whole family.

So I looked for the best Storyworth alternatives, and Remento stood out immediately as an easy-to-use, no writing way of turning her stories into a book that also would capture her voice. It wasn’t just a journaling tool or a memory app. It was a way to capture her voice, her cadence, her laughter, her pauses. That way I’d always be able to carry them forward.

I wasn’t looking for a keepsake book. I was looking for a way to keep my mom’s memories and stories alive forever.

Remento offered exactly what I needed. Their Speech-to-Story technology made it so she didn’t have to type. They provided thoughtful prompts that she could access all at once and answer in her own time. And I was able to add photos, which helped unlock her memories and resulted in richer stories. 

Honestly though, it was mostly about her voice. The moment I saw that Remento preserved her voice forever, easily accessible through QR codes printed in her book, I knew this was the right path for us.

Our Experience Using Remento

One afternoon when she was home and feeling well enough, we sat together in the living room to use Remento. I had preloaded over 50 prompts, carefully chosen to spark stories I hoped she’d want to tell. When I realized I could add photos to each prompt, something shifted … she lit up. Images helped her anchor each memory. They gave her a starting place.

We went through the prompts together. She picked the ones that felt right; I removed the others. That shared moment, just the two of us shaping her story, became one of the most meaningful experiences of my life.

Over the next weeks, she recorded whenever she felt up to it. Sometimes in short bursts. Sometimes between hospital visits. Nurses and doctors would come and go, but she’d tuck away a story when she could. Remento made it easy for her to re-record anything she didn’t like. It really just worked for her.

A special memory came on Halloween, during a long two-month hospital stay. My mom had lost her hair during chemo, and one of the nurses gave her a unicorn hat. Unicorns had become her “power symbol” years earlier when she jokingly said she wanted a giant stuffed unicorn for her transplant. I showed up wearing a full inflatable unicorn costume, tromping down the hospital hallway and making everyone smile. She wore her unicorn hat, beaming. 

The photo of her and I in our unicorn costumes became one of her prompts in Remento. That’s a memory that I lived with her, and it’s such an important day: such a bright spot for her, me, and my family during those times. And I haven’t listened to that recording since she made it, but I know it’s going to bring so much joy and comfort to me in the future. I’m so grateful to have everything that day meant to her bottled up, so we can relive it whenever we want, through her eyes, in her words, and with her voice.

By the end, I had gathered over 100 recordings of her stories. I haven’t listened to most of them yet. It’s still too tender. But I know they’re there when I need them. That knowledge alone is the greatest gift I’ll ever receive.

                                                A full recounting of unicorn Halloween

The Impact on Our Family

My mom passed away less than two months ago. Those words still don’t feel real. But knowing that her voice lives on changes the shape of my grief.

Remento gave me:

• Stories I’d never heard
  
• Memories I didn’t know she carried
  
• Her laughter, forever
  
• Her strength and optimism, captured in every spoken word
  
• Hours of her storytelling I can return to when I’m ready
  

We’re bringing her Remento book to her Celebration of Life. I know those recordings — those moments she shared with such courage — will be a powerful way to honor her. They’re already a source of comfort for my family, even the ones who haven’t been able to listen yet.

For us it’s not just a book. It’s something we can reach for when we want to feel her with us.

The Book Arrives

Holding the Remento book felt like holding a piece of her. Flipping through the pages — seeing her photos, her words pulled from her recordings, and knowing her voice waits behind every QR code — was overwhelming in the best way.

I’m not ready to scan those codes yet. But when the day comes, I’ll hear her again. I’ll hear her stories in her own voice. I’ll remember her just the way she was. I’ll remember the incredible moments we lived together, and I’ll remember the ones she only told me about years later, allowing me to truly know her and love her (seemingly impossibly) even more.