The Place That Turns Stories into Books
Do you remember when you were younger and your grandmother or grandfather used to tell you stories? Do you still remember what they said?
If you’re like me, you might remember bits and pieces, but when you are pressed to remember a certain detail…you can’t.
After my gram died, I wanted more than anything to hear her stories again.
But it was too late.
The years I’ve spent working with people who are at the end of their life helped me see, I wasn’t the only one wishing I had preserved my gram’s stories somehow.
So many clients were in the last days of their lives desperately trying to share the tidbits of their life they wanted left behind. And, often, they were too sick to get the words out, or the listeners were too sad to truly hear what they wanted to say.
Working with Write Before The End can solve this problem for both the Story Teller and the Receiver.
Spend as little or as much time as you’d like to write down the stories and pieces of information you don’t want to take with you as you exit stage left, send us your typed document, handwritten notes, and/or special photographs and let us turn them into a book that will help keep your legacy alive for generations to come.
Not Sure How to Get Started?
We can help you with that, too! We have lots of questions to get you started.
Available Options
Why Write Before The End?
Because your story matters. You matter. Your life matters.
I remember watching “Everyone Has A Story,” on Sunday Morning with my gram when I was younger. The thought that everyone, including me, has a story fascinated me. The excitement that filled me is something I can still recall. My heart raced at the thought of capturing everyone’s story.
What if I asked everyone about their story? What would they say if they only had two minutes to share? Curiosity and an innocent heart made me want to try. I was eight. What was I going to do? I did the only thing I knew how, I talked to my gram.
I perched on the side of the couch as I interviewed her, my dull pencil in hand. “Gram, tell me about your story.”
My question stopped her in her tracks before she giggled. She was always telling me pieces of her past. The details were so intricately woven into my fabric, it became part of me, too.
To this day, I carry her words with me. But sadly, I did not get her story handed down to me on paper and the photographs I have left me with more questions than answers.
If there is only one thing I hope you do, it is to leave a piece of yourself behind for the people who love you and for the ones who will never have the chance to meet you.
Before you get too caught up in feeling overwhelmed at what this all means, relax and take a deep breath.
This does not have to be extravagant or time consuming. You’re in control of this process.
As someone who lost both of my parents, and pretty much all of my family, by the time I turned thirty-four, I cannot stress enough how important this is to me.
When my dad died, all I had was one picture of him. That’s it. I didn’t have the chance to find out what his dreams were, or who his first love was. He was a stranger to me, and the emptiness I feel connected to that is not something I want anyone else to experience.
Even if you don’t have children, there are people who love you and who you love, who would appreciate something to remind them of you after you’re gone.
I have interacted with hundreds of people at the end of their life, and grieving families, and one of the common denominators is…
They wished they had left their story behind.
There is always something left unsaid or said and then forgotten.
The power of your story is that you get to leave a little of yourself behind.
Forever frozen in time.
You are always only a page or photo away.
Reminisce, laugh, and leave the gift of your story behind for the people nearest and dearest to your heart.
Write Before The End would be honored to help you leave your cherished memories in the hands and hearts of the people you love.
Everyone has a story.
Let us help you leave it on this side of the daises.
