Gate of Memories

"My grandfather was a quiet man, but his hands never rested. He loved working with wood and his workshop was full of the smell of pine and old tools. As a child, I used to sit next to him and watch him sand the edges and carefully assemble each piece. After his death, I searched for a long time for something that reminded me of him. Now I have a crystal heart with his ashes next to his old creation - a little wooden horse he once made for me. And every time I stroke it, I feel his hands are still here."

"My mother always had pockets full of candies. It didn't matter how old I was - every time I came to her house, she pressed a caramel into my hand. After she died, I carried the last one she gave me in my pocket for a long time. I couldn't eat it, I didn't want to throw it away. Finally, I put it in a small wooden box with a crystal heart with her ashes. Every day, when I open the box and see that tiny piece of candy, I feel like she's hugging me again."

"I don’t really know how to write this, but I just want to say that I miss my dog, Bruno. We had him for 13 years, and he was the best dog ever. He always waited for me at the door, and now there’s just emptiness. When I got the urn with his ashes, at first, I couldn’t even look at it. But then I thought, maybe it’s actually good that I still have him at home. When I feel sad, I sit next to the urn and talk to him, like he can hear me. Maybe it’s silly, but it helps. Thank you for making something so nice where I could keep him."

"As I held the glass remembrance with my daughter's ashes in my hands, I felt peace for the first time since her passing. It was as if she was whispering to me that she was still with me, that she hadn't disappeared, just moved on. Your gift for turning pain into a memory that warms is priceless. Thank you for giving me something I can hold every day and know that a piece of my little girl is still here. 💗"

"Our female Līza always knew when I was not feeling well. I had hard days at work, sometimes I was overwhelmed, but she always came running, put her head on my knee and just stayed there quietly. There was never a need for words. When she left, I came home and for the first time no one ran to the door. The feeling of emptiness was terrible. Thanks to the beautiful glass urn from you, I now know that Līza has a place of honor in our home where she has always belonged."

"I never thought this would be the thing I miss the most. The calls.

My mom called me every day. Even when there was nothing to say, she always found a reason. ‘I just wanted to check how you are.’ Or ‘Did you see they said it might rain today?’ They were short calls, sometimes not even a minute long. And now, when nobody calls me just because, the house feels strangely quiet.

When I got the urn with her ashes, I didn’t know where to put it. After a year, I finally gathered the courage and took it to the columbarium. But I still have her number saved in my phone. And sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I dialed it. Maybe she’d pick up and just say her usual, ‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’"

"Losing a brother is like losing a part of yourself. We were inseparable, and when he left, I felt that the world had split into two halves - one where he was and one where I was. Today I wear a pendant with his ashes on it, and sometimes I imagine that if he could, he would have said to me, 'I'm still here, brother.'"

"My grandfather had an old radio that played so loud that you could hear it all over the house. Every morning he tuned to the same station, and when his favourite song came on, he danced with my grandmother right in the kitchen. After his death, the house was strangely quiet. When I brought home the memory glass with his ashes, I put it next to the old radio, which has long since stopped playing. And yet, when I close my eyes, I can hear him singing and my grandmother laughing. These are exactly the memories I need to have."