A memorial board for the people who knew them
Photos, videos, stories, and the things people would say if asked — gathered into one place, given to the family by the people who knew them.
Online for ten years. No subscription. No account needed to contribute.
Why this matters
No one person holds the whole of someone's life.
Their family knows one version. Their friends know another. Their school, their work, their neighbours, the people who knew and loved them too, each of them holds something different.
A memorial board brings those pieces together. Photos and the stories behind them. Memories that would otherwise stay in someone's head. The things people would say if they had somewhere to say them.
For the family who wants to keep them with them
A memorial board is somewhere a family can return to and find them. On her birthday. On the anniversary. On the day someone finds an old photo and wants to add it. On the day a grandchild wants to know what she was like.
What gets gathered are the things people would say if asked. The story behind a photo. A memory from work. What she was like as a friend. The small detail that someone has been holding for years and now has somewhere to put.
When the family is ready, the memories become a printed book they can hold.
For all the people they were
The board works for everyone, whether they were a parent or not, whether they had a thousand friends or a quiet life. People still want to say what they remember. Their family still wants to read it. The book is still the place to keep it.
The board keeps growing. The book gives the family something to hold.
When enough has gathered, the memories on the board become the first printed edition of a book. The board stays open afterwards. New memories can be added. A later edition can be made when the family is ready.
The philosophy
There is an old idea that we die twice: once when life ends, and again when our name is said for the last time.
A memorial board gives people somewhere to keep saying the name, sharing the stories, and adding what they remember — now, and in the years to come.