The things you would want them to hear.
Write to the people you love. It stays sealed — completely, from everyone — until the day it should not be.
Free for five people and ten messages. Unlimited is pay what you want, once, from a dollar — and it never expires.
Sealed means sealed
Not the people you have written to, not the person you trust to open it, and no screen in this software shows an administrator your letters.
Paid once, or not at all
No subscription, ever. A lapsed card must never be able to delete what somebody left their children.
Yours to take away
Export everything as one file that opens in a browser in twenty years, whether or not we are still here.
Most of what matters never gets written down
A will covers the house and the money. It does not tell your daughter what you thought of her, or where the photographs are, or which of your friends will need a phone call from somebody who knew.
People do mean to write those things. They put it off, because sitting down to it feels like tempting fate, and because a letter in a drawer raises more problems than it solves — who finds it, when, and what if you change your mind in eleven years?
This is that drawer, with the problems taken out of it.
How it works
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Write
Letters to particular people, and the practical notes somebody will need — where the will is, who to ring, what to cancel. Nothing is visible to anybody, including us on any ordinary day, until you decide otherwise.
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Say who they are for
Each person gets an invitation and sets up an account. They can sign in today and confirm it works — and they will be told, plainly, that there is nothing to read yet and that this is exactly as it should be.
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Decide how it opens
You can open it yourself, at any time, for one person or for everyone. You can ask somebody you trust to hold that decision for the day you cannot make it. And you can set a timer that opens it if you stop checking in.
The parts people ask about
Can anyone read it before then?
No. Not the people you have written to, not the person you trust to open it. A keeper can open the door; they cannot walk through it.
What if I change my mind?
Edit it, rewrite it, delete it. Nothing is fixed until it is read. Even opening it is reversible — though we will not pretend you can un-read a letter for somebody.
What if I am fine and the timer goes off?
It warns you by email ten days before, and again at five days, and warns the person you trusted as well. One click stops it. And if it ever does fire by mistake, it can be sealed again in a minute.
What if I never die conveniently?
The timer is optional and off by default. Some people leave it off and rely on a keeper. Some rely on neither and simply open it themselves when they get a diagnosis. All three are supported and none is assumed.
What this is not
It is not a will and it does not carry legal weight. Leave the estate to a lawyer; leave the words here.
It is not a vault for secrets. The database is not encrypted in a way that would stop somebody with our hosting password reading it — and that is a deliberate choice, because the alternative is a decryption key that has to survive you and be usable by a grieving relative. So: write down where the password manager is and who has the master password. Do not write the master password.
It is not a guarantee. Email gets spam-foldered. Companies fold. We have written down what happens if this one does, and we will give you everything back before it goes.
More detail in how it works, privacy and terms.
What it costs
Free for five people and ten messages, with every safety feature included. More than that is pay what you want — a dollar minimum, paid once, for as long as this exists.
There is no subscription, and there never will be. A lapsed card should not be able to delete a dead man's letters to his children, and the one person who could have updated it is the one who died.