I missed his face
every day.
When my grandfather died, the thing I missed most was the simplest one. His face. So I did what people have always done, and put his photo where I would see it.
His photo sat on my desk. He was there every morning when I sat down to work, and catching sight of him for a second, many times a day, helped more than I expected.
Then I would pack a bag. I travel a lot, and the desk stayed behind. In hotel rooms and at airport gates I caught myself missing him all over again. His photo was somewhere in my phone, buried between screenshots and receipts. Finding it felt like a chore at exactly the moment I needed him close.
People used to carry the ones they loved: a locket, or a photo in a wallet sleeve worn soft at the corners. I wanted him in my wallet. My boarding passes and cards already lived in Apple Wallet, one press of a button away, so I made him a pass of his own. One photograph, his name, a line under it, and on the back the things I wanted to remember.
That pass became Keepsake. He is with me at the gate, in the waiting room and in places with no signal at all. It is the closest thing I have found to having him near, and I hope it does the same for you.
Alex, who made Keepsake
We built a shop that keeps nothing. Your phone makes the keepsake, and the finished pass goes to your Wallet and your inbox. Those are the only copies in the world. We never look at what’s in your photo, and we don’t keep your family anywhere.
What a keepsake is
The front is the photograph, their name, and the month you started keeping them close.
The back holds your words. As many as you like: the story of the day, the joke only the two of you get, the thing you never said out loud.
It works everywhere: offline, abroad, at 3am. It costs less than a birthday card, and you pay once. No subscription, because love isn’t one.
For the days there’s no photograph yet
Some keepsakes start without a picture: a name you’re waiting to meet, a promise, a memorial where the photographs are still too heavy to choose. For those there are twelve designs, each its own small piece:
Original artwork, licensed. Yours to keep, like everything else here.
About a minute on your iPhone. Your photo stays with you.
Make one of your ownOr just close this. The story was free.