Grief doesn't have a word count.
The thing you wanted to say at the funeral but couldn't get out.
The update you wish you could give them — the job, the baby, the ordinary Tuesday.
The apology. The thank you. The "I still think about you."
Some things need to be written, even if no one reads them.
Two ways to remember.
Private and personal, or shared with the people who loved them too.
A private letterbox, just for you.
Write whenever you need to. Nobody else sees it. A place to put the things that have nowhere else to go.
A shared memorial with family and friends.
Invite the people who knew them. Everyone writes. Everyone reads. A living collection of the person they were.
Letters that stay permanently.
Not a social media post that gets buried. Not a thread that disappears. Words that stay as long as you need them to.
For the ones we carry with us.
A parent you lost before you were ready to lose them
A child — every letter a way of keeping them close
A friend who went too soon, before you got to say everything
A pet — the love that doesn't need explaining
Anyone whose absence leaves a shape in your days
You don't need to be ready.
You just need to start.
Free. Private. No one sees it unless you choose.
Open Your Letterbox →