My father, Bill Kokenge, had a story about how he bought the family set of china. Every time my mother, Dolly, brought it out for special occasions, he'd look around the table and say, "Did I ever tell you how I got this china?"

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We'd groan. We'd roll our eyes. Not that story again.

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Then he died. And I was standing in a thrift store one afternoon, staring at a shelf of old dishes, and it hit me:

I had never actually heard that story. By the time I came along — the youngest of seven kids — it was so old he'd stopped telling it. My siblings either never heard it, couldn't remember it, or only knew pieces of it. My mother remembered one thing: that even though he shipped that china home from overseas, only a single cup handle broke in transit. The rest of the story is gone.

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I would give almost anything to hear him tell that story. In his own voice. In his own words.

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That moment is what led me to sit down with my mother and interview her — to capture her stories, her memories, and her voice before any more time slipped away. And it's what led me to build LifeVersations. Because I don't want that to happen to your family.

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Your voice and your stories should never be lost to time.