When did you last laugh together?
At choir practice, two months before she passed. She sang the wrong verse, loudly and with total confidence, and then laughed harder than any of us. She was never embarrassed by joy.
— Tom, from the church choir
Celebrating a life
Ann Miller
March 14, 1936 — November 2, 2024
of Asheville, North Carolina
Steady · Warm · Luminous
This is an example page — nothing is saved
Their voice
A message she left to her grandchildren
Ann Miller was born on a cold March morning in 1936 and lived eighty-eight years with the same quiet grace she carried into every room. She grew up in Asheville, North Carolina, the eldest of four, and stayed close to those hills all her life.
She asked, near the end, that no one wear black. "Wear something the color of a garden," she said.
Her portrait, in many hands
No single voice can hold a whole life. Ann's portrait is a mosaic — each piece written by someone who knew her, kept exactly in their own words.
What do you still have of hers?
Her recipe card for apple cake, in her handwriting, with a grease stain in the corner. She never measured anything — the card just says 'enough flour'. I bake it every autumn and it never comes out quite like hers.
— Claire, her granddaughter
Who came by for Ann
1 candle lit · 2 people left flowers · 2 prayers
5 new since your last visit
2 names are waiting. Until you approve them, visitors see Someone.
- MaryNEWwaiting
1 candle lit · 2 people left flowers · 2 prayers
Nothing here has to stay on this page. The memories and the pictures become a book you can print and hand round; a few of the memories become pictures to share; and a small code takes anyone with a phone straight back here, from a headstone, a plaque or an order of service.
“Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear.” — William Shakespeare
* Ann Miller is a demonstration; no real family is involved.