I Never Thought I’d Write a Book — Until I Realized My Story Might Die With Me

I heard a quote recently that stopped me in my tracks: “Most people die twice: once when their heart stops, and again when their story is forgotten.” It haunted me a little. Because honestly… I couldn’t remember the sound of my grandmother’s voice anymore. And my own kids? They knew I once lived in a small town, but they didn’t know why I left. Or how I fell in love. Or that I once hitchhiked through Europe with nothing but a backpack and a dream. All those moments — the little ones that made me me — were starting to fade.

And if I didn’t tell them now, when would I?

That’s when I found Memowrite, a service that helps you write your memoir by simply answering weekly prompts.

And if I didn’t tell them now, when would I?

That’s when I found Memowrite, a service that helps you write your memoir by simply answering weekly prompts.

Here’s why I said yes — and why I’m so glad I did:

1. My kids deserved to know who I really was — before “Mom” or “Grandma.”

I wanted them to know I wasn’t always the person who made meatloaf and paid the bills. I was a dreamer. A rebel. A woman who made mistakes and found her way. This gave me the space to share that.

2. I didn’t want my memories to vanish with me.

Photos fade. Social media disappears. But a book? That’s forever. Now, even when I’m gone, my voice will still be there. My story will live on.

3. It was easier than I ever imagined.

Every week I’d get a thoughtful question like “What’s a moment that changed your life?” or “Tell us about your first job.” I’d just sit down with a cup of coffee and type like I was writing a letter. No pressure, no perfection. Just truth.

4. It helped me heal and reflect.

I didn’t expect this — but writing about my past helped me understand it better. The good, the bad, the beautiful. It felt like a conversation with my younger self. And I was kinder to her than I thought I’d be.

5. I gave my family the most meaningful gift I’ve ever given.

When I saw my printed memoir, I cried. Not because it was perfect, but because it was real. My daughter called it “the best thing I’ve ever read.” My grandson said, “Now I know where I got my stubborn streak.”

I never thought I’d write a book.

But now I have — and it’s the most important one I’ll ever write. If you’ve ever thought, “Who would want to read my story?” — the answer is simple: The people who love you. Don’t let your story go untold.

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