<p>He knew he didn’t have much time left. We knew it too.</p>
<p>When we came to see him that afternoon to say goodbye, the first thing he said was: “Come, grab that stool, let’s go sit outside on the balcony.”</p>
<p>That balcony was barely two square meters. The three of us sat there. He could smoke there, and he still wanted to, even though it was his lungs that had brought him to this farewell.</p>
<h2 class="heading-2 dark">He asked what we were working on</h2>
<p>He asked how we were doing and what we were working on. We told him we were starting a new company, together with our daughters.</p>
<p>He kept asking questions.</p>
<p>And then we hesitated. Because how do you tell a friend who is about to die that you are making something for people who are saying goodbye? It felt bittersweet. We told him that too.</p>
<h2 class="heading-2 dark">We showed him Beloved <em>stones</em></h2>
<p>Still, we took a small bag out of our coat, with a few soft, colorful stones inside. We held a stone against a phone and the memorial opened.</p>
<p>We browsed through photos, showed a video, scrolled past a few texts, and typed a memory. It appeared instantly.</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence.</p>
<p>Then he said: <strong>“But this is what I want.”</strong></p>
<h2 class="heading-2 dark">“Can I be your first customer?”</h2>
<p>He didn’t want memorial cards. He wanted stones to be handed out.</p>
<p>He told us that inside there was a USB stick with videos of the bed & breakfast he had run for years with his wife. A special place for us, because we got married there, with him as the officiant.</p>
<p>Then he asked: <strong>“Can I be your first customer?”</strong></p>
<p>He would send his son over to arrange it.</p>
<h2 class="heading-2 dark">His own memory was the first</h2>
<p>Those videos are now on his memorial. He saw them himself. He wrote a thank you note with them.</p>
<p>And the very first memory that appeared on his memorial, he wrote himself.</p>
<p>That makes his memorial extra special to us. Not only because his images and stories have found a place there, but because he was able to decide for himself what he wanted to leave behind.</p>
<h2 class="heading-2 dark">Eighty stones, eighty memories</h2>
<p>On the day of his funeral, people formed a guard of honor. While they stood there, the funeral director handed out the stones.</p>
<p>Eighty in total.</p>
<p>Everyone walked home with something in their hand.</p>
<p>A small stone, with his images, his words, and his story behind it.</p>
<p>And perhaps even more important: a memory that didn’t end on the day of his farewell.</p>