Letters to the lost

in life, in love, in time

Write to those no longer within reach

The Posthumous Post Project is a place for you to write, release, and remember. It’s for all the words that still need somewhere to go. Here, your words don’t disappear, they land somewhere safe.

How it works

An illustration of a piece of paper with wavy lines representing writing and a pen writing on the paper.

Write it

Whether it’s a full letter, a scribble on a receipt, or a message on the back of a photo—write what you need to write, in the form that feels right for you.

Icon of a postage stamp with a scalloped border and a heart inside.

Stamp it

Remember to use the correct postage for the weight of your letter/card. 

Drawing of a classic blue mailbox with a slot for mail and a flag on the side.

Mail it

Drop it in the mail addressed to your recipient. Our secure P.O. Box is private and safe, and your words will remain unopened and unread: a final resting place for the words you needed to send.

[Name of Recipient]
P.O. Box 30061
6117 Campus Ln.
Cincinnati, OH 45230

Two women smiling and sitting closely together at a table in a dimly lit setting, possibly a restaurant or bar, with drinks in front of them.

At the end of 2023 I lost one of my best friends, Sharon, to cancer.  

Over the next year I went through the standard grieving process. Some days I’d think of Sharon and smile, others I wouldn’t think of her at all, and some days the pain would hit so hard I’d burst into tears- sometimes in public, mostly in my car.

Overall, I was managing, until the holidays. For years I’d sent/given Sharon a holiday card. She thought it was ridiculous. “I see you almost every day, why give me a card?” “How many times did you have to say a dirty word to make your kids smile like that?” “Your hair’s never that perfect, these pictures are silly.” But I liked giving holiday cards, and so she got one every year, even that last one when the days were a waiting game. “Ridiculous,” she said. “You could have spent that money on something useful.”

But now–she was gone. She would never get another card. The weight of that realization hit like a force you can only understand if you’ve experienced it yourself.

In my address book, filled with names and addresses I'd kept updated over the years- family, friends, distant cousins and college roommates- Sharon’s name screamed at me.  What do you do when your loved one has gone? Do you cross their name out, as though they moved? The mere thought of it was unbearable.

I wondered if there was a way to still send the card. It would never reach her, and she would never read it, but I could still send it somehow. I searched, but found nothing, so I decided to do it myself. Even if I was the only one sending the card- the card would be sent. The words would still be said. 

I’m not ready to not send the card. Maybe I never will be. Maybe you’re not ready either. There’s no guidebook for grief. But there can be peace. Even in the dark, peace is possible.

A handwritten signature reading 'Kris Childers Buschle' with a heart symbol before the name.

Kris Childers-Buschle
Founder of Posthumous Post Project

Send your letters to:

[Name of Recipient]
P.O. Box 30061
6117 Campus Ln
Cincinnati, OH 45230

(letters sent to the P.O. Box will not be read)

Contact us.

Questions? Fill out the form here or email us at: posthumouspostproject@gmail.com