Not long ago, I found a book my godmother had given me. Inside, she had written a short note. I stopped moving, went quiet. My wife asked me what was wrong — and I realized something hard to admit: she would never really know my godmother. Not her voice, her way of thinking, the small expressions she used that made her so uniquely herself. There’s almost nothing left of her, except my memories.
And those will fade.
That moment sparked the idea for Memorieon — a way for people to preserve not just photos or dates, but who they are.
When someone passes away, we often inherit images — maybe a video or two, maybe a social media timeline. But rarely do we inherit someone’s voice. Their story. Their lessons. Their personality in full.
I want my future children and grandchildren to know my parents the way I do — not just know about them. I want them to hear the same advice I got when I needed it most. And I want them to know what kind of person I was, beyond what a Facebook profile or hard drive might suggest.
But that kind of legacy doesn’t happen by accident. And the tools we have today don’t help much.
When I started researching existing options, I found two extremes:
That’s when I realized the real problem: people don’t avoid creating their legacy because they don’t care — they avoid it because they don’t know where to start.
Memorieon is built around the Legacy Capsule — a guided, story-first experience designed to help you preserve your voice, values, and memories with clarity and ease. We guide you through seven simple but powerful prompts like:
You can record video or audio directly in the app, and store it all in a secure, encrypted vault that you control.
We don’t use avatars, deepfakes, or AI simulations. No one else speaks for you. Only you can tell your story.
Legacy often gets treated as something grim or final — but that’s not how I see it.
To me, it’s a way to celebrate life. To make sure the people you love still feel your presence long after you're gone. Not in theory, but in practice. Sitting across from you. Hearing you laugh. Learning from you.
That’s the vision behind Memorieon. Imagine a child growing up with the chance to hear their grandparents talk about their childhood, their mistakes, their love stories — not secondhand, but directly. Not as a fading memory, but as a vivid voice.
That’s what we’re building: not software, but closeness across generations.
Before Memorieon, I worked in finance and sales. I’ve advised founders and helped companies scale. But this is different.
This is about meaning.
This is about making sure we’re remembered — not just as names on paper, but as people who mattered.
If we get this right, 50 years from now, families will have living family trees.They won’t just know where they come from — they’ll feel it. They’ll be guided not just by heritage, but by wisdom. Stories will be passed on like heirlooms.
That’s the future I’m building toward.
One capsule, one voice, one legacy at a time.
In memory of Roza Aerts, my godmother.
The reason this exists.