I wish to disclose something intimate regarding my mother, who was my dearest companion, my strongest supporter, and my safe refuge.

She departed this past May, and each day following, I’ve found myself longing for the things she left behind. Not jewelry, apparel, or luxury items, but her voice, her laughter, her grin.

As I grew up, our connection was indestructible. The holidays were our special time. We had a tradition of going to Fifth Avenue, shopping until our arms felt heavy, bags dangling from our wrists, before heading to Bergdorf Goodman for a meal. It was our little indulgence, sitting across from one another, weary yet content, sharing food, exchanging stories, and expressing “I love you” as effortlessly as breathing.

Here’s the reality: the most significant part of her that I carry with me today nearly didn’t happen.

A few years back, I hadn’t even set up my voicemail. As a millennial, it simply felt unnecessary. One day, my Aunt Tanya called and questioned why it wasn’t activated. I brushed it off.

“Tyler, switch it on,” she urged. “People want to leave you messages.”

So I did. And this year, since my mother’s passing, one of my most cherished belongings has become my saved voicemails of her saying “happy birthday” and “I love you.” I can hear her whenever I need her.

I have our last text conversation, where she assured me she would love me forever. And I trust her.

We took pictures together. We created videos. Silly little clips while she was in her bed. Selfies and shots in busy stores. Random captures of her laughing at something I said. Those moments… they mean everything now. They’re proof that she was present, that we existed, that love like ours was real.

She instilled in me strength. She instilled resilience. She taught me how to push forward when the world seems at a standstill. And in times when I feel adrift, her voice and our memories serve as the map guiding me back to myself. They remind me: everything will be alright.

That’s why I’m urging you to utilize every resource available to create memories. Snap the picture, even if your hair’s disheveled. Record the video, even if it’s just ten seconds. Preserve the voicemail. Retain the texts. Don’t wait for the ideal moment; create it perfect by being in it together.

The holidays are a time to celebrate in your unique way. For some, it’s boisterous festivities. For others, it’s tranquil contemplation. But for all, it should focus on cherishing the people we love while we still can.

So the next time you’re with those who matter most, capture it, because one day those photos, videos, and voicemails may be the lifeline that helps you through the toughest days.

For me, they’re why I can still hear my mom say, “I love you.” And that’s something I will cherish indefinitely.

This narrative is part of Holidays With Heart, a series where Mashable and other CNET Group Perspectives contributors share personal experiences involving technology.