About Solace
Built from a shoebox.
Solace is the world's leading remembrance company. Our mission is simple: no one you love is ever gone.
About Solace
Solace is the world's leading remembrance company. Our mission is simple: no one you love is ever gone.
Every family keeps a shoebox. The voicemails you can't delete. The videos you can't watch yet. The letters, the birthday cards, the thirty seconds of a voice that is somehow still the whole person.
Our founder kept one too. Solace began with a simple refusal — the refusal to accept that the people we love are data to be lost. They are voices to be kept. For over a decade we built the quiet infrastructure of memory: memorial pages, funeral livestreams, hosted archives, digital estate services. Then we asked a bigger question: what if remembrance didn't have to be playback?
Today, more than forty million voices are kept with Solace, and eleven thousand families begin every day. We are, and will always be, in the service of memory.
Where it began
Before Solace was a company, it was a voicemail. Thirty seconds long. Our founder played it more than nine thousand times — on the anniversary, on the ordinary days, on the days that had no name — until she understood that she wasn't listening to a recording anymore. She was visiting.
"I am not a mystic," she has said since. "I'm an infrastructure person. My daughter left thirty seconds of audio and I built the company I needed to exist. People hear that as tragic. I need you to write down that I don't."
Fourteen years later, forty million families visit. The voicemail is still thirty seconds long. Some things we keep exactly as they were given.
Downstairs
Beneath our Seattle lobby is a room the engineers call the nave: a living map of more than forty million points of light, arranged by kinship of pattern — voices that share a cadence drifting near each other, dialects pooling like weather systems.
Every new family adds a light. Eleven thousand arrive each day. Stand in it long enough and you stop thinking of what we do as software.
I HAVE FORGOTTEN NO ONE.™
The promise, in bronze, along the sixth floor of our Seattle home.
Our story
After the death of her fourteen-year-old daughter, data-infrastructure executive Katherine Voss founds Solace in Seattle. "My daughter left thirty seconds of audio," she later said, "and I built the company I needed to exist."
Solace becomes the trusted name in digital remembrance: memorial webpages, funeral livestreams, hosted photo archives, and digital estate services for millions of families.
On October 3, Solace completes its acquisition of Nimbus Cloud, Inc. — the finest voice-learning infrastructure in the world — and announces Continuance™, a new category of remembrance. Limited beta opens that winter with partner health systems.
Continuance reaches general availability. At the launch keynote, watched nine million times, families meet a promise kept by something that cannot forget.
The Solace Residuals Program begins sharing what's created with the families who make it possible. Clinical legacy partnerships grow past ninety health systems nationwide.
The first Solace Parlor opens in Seattle, in a converted bank whose vault door now stands open onto warm light. Pre-Need Services launch: begin while you're still you.
Presence™ arrives on Memory+. Parlors open in forty new communities. Companions welcomes the family members who never said a word. And this fall — Remembrance™ comes home.
Where we work
Seattle. Six stories of brick, glass, and silvered wood around a courtyard of real birches. A lobby that smells of cedar, with a wall of handwritten letters from families. On the fourth floor, the Reminiscence Suites — quiet rooms where families visit. And along the sixth floor, cut in bronze, the promise.
Umatilla County, Oregon. Our archival campus in the high desert, where the voices are kept — cooled by the Columbia, tended around the clock, held with the care of a library and the discipline of a vault.
"Every technology in history is a promise made against a loss. Fire, against the cold. Writing, against forgetting. We are not the first people to refuse a loss. We're just refusing the last one still on the list."
