Every story finds the light.
ABOUT SOLROS
Solros started with five moments. None of them planned. All of them pointing at the same thing.
My friends are my family.
I've lived in cities across the country and traveled a good part of the globe. Through all of it, one thing has stayed constant: I build real relationships, and I'd do almost anything for the people in mine. That's not a mission statement. It's just who I am. It's the lens everything else here came through.
WHY THE NAME
It's my partner's favorite flower. To me, it means positivity, joy, and health — the same things I want people to feel when they open a Living Memory.
Solros means sunflower.
Five reasons Solros exists.
One
People are losing the habit of stopping to reflect on their lives — of saying, out loud, what someone actually means to them. Not because they don't feel it. Because there's rarely a moment built for it. Solros exists to build that moment back in.
We're losing the ability to actually say it.
Two
My brother's wedding, and the guestbook nobody really uses.
Almost everyone who signs a guestbook writes something short and generic — not because they don't care, but because there's a line behind them and thirty seconds before they need to get back to the party. The real story they'd have told, given a minute and no line, never makes it onto the page.
Three
For my mom's 60th surprise party in Miami, we have some photos and a lot of memories — that's it. No one captured what people said that weekend. Those stories still live in the people who were there, but they fade a little more every year.
My mom's 60th, and what we have left of it.
Four
My grandmother, and a story I don't want to lose.
Driving from Vermont to her house in New Jersey — no matter how late we arrived, she'd be awake waiting, pizza and corn muffins ready, Scooby Doo playing while we stayed up half the night together. That's one story I still have. I don't want it to be one of the only ones.
Five
A drive to the office, and a friend who'll never know 99% of her mom's stories.
My friend's mom passed away. Not long after, I was driving to my office thinking about everyone her mom had known — coworkers, neighbors, old friends. My friend will never hear almost any of those stories, because there was never a way to gather them. That drive is where Solros actually started.
Grown from every voice.
Solros isn't asking you to buy a book. It's asking you to not let some photos, videos and a short text message or line in a guestbook be the version of the story your family is left with.
See a real book
