A grandfather, a cassette tape, and a small regret.

My grandfather Vincent kept a small cassette recorder in the drawer beside his armchair. He used it the way some people use a journal — speaking into it on Sunday afternoons, telling stories about the war, about my grandmother, about the village he left when he was nineteen.

When he died, we found forty-two tapes. Most had degraded. Two had been recorded over. The rest, we played in a single weekend, the whole family crowded into his living room, hearing his laugh again for the first time in three years.

It is the single best weekend of my life. And it should not have required a near-miracle.

Hearthkeep is what I wish my grandfather had. A quiet, beautiful, private way to leave your voice for the people who will miss it most. We built it slowly, with care, with old people in mind. We hope it helps you keep yours.