How to store your legacy letters so they actually reach the right people

You sat down, worked through the emotions, and wrote a legacy letter. Maybe you followed a step-by-step guide or maybe you just poured it all out one night when the house was quiet. Either way, you have something real on the page.

Now comes the part nobody talks about: what do you actually do with it?

Because a legacy letter that your daughter can't find is the same as a legacy letter that doesn't exist. And a letter saved to a laptop that gets wiped, or a cloud account nobody has the password to, or a platform that shuts down in five years — same problem. The writing is the emotional work. The storing is the practical work. And the practical work is what makes it all count.

This is the boring-but-necessary guide. Where to put your letter, how to make sure the right person can get to it, and what backup plans to have in place so your words actually land.

First, figure out what you're working with

Before you pick a storage method, take stock of what you've actually created.

Is your letter a Word document on your laptop? A Google Doc? A handwritten letter in a drawer? An entry on a platform built for this purpose? The format matters because it determines your options.

Digital files (Word, PDF, Google Docs) are easy to copy and back up, but they need password protection and someone who knows where to look.

Handwritten letters carry an emotional weight that typed words just don't. But they're also one-of-a-kind. If the paper gets damaged or lost, that's it. No undo button.

Platform-based letters (written inside a dedicated service like When I Die Files) have the advantage of built-in delivery and security features, but you're trusting a third party to stick around.

Most people end up with some combination of these. That's fine. The goal isn't one perfect storage method — it's a system where your letters survive and get delivered.

The three places your letter should live

Here's the rule I tell everyone: your legacy letter should exist in at least two places, and ideally three. Think of it like the 3-2-1 backup rule that IT people swear by — three copies, two different types of storage, one offsite.

That sounds technical, but in practice it's simple.

1. A secure online platform

This is your primary copy. You want something designed for sensitive personal documents, not just generic cloud storage. The difference matters.

A platform built for legacy documents will typically offer end-to-end encryption, which means nobody — not even the company running the platform — can read your letter. It's encrypted on your device before it ever leaves, and only someone with the right key can decrypt it. If you want to understand why that matters, here's a plain-English explanation of end-to-end encryption for legacy letters.

Generic cloud storage (Google Drive, Dropbox, iCloud) works in a pinch, but those services encrypt data in transit and at rest — which means the company itself can technically access your files. For a grocery list, who cares. For a letter containing your deepest thoughts about your marriage or your regrets as a parent, that's a different calculation.

When evaluating any platform, ask these questions:

Is it end-to-end encrypted? If the company can read your files, the answer is no.
What happens if the company goes out of business? Do you get an export? Is there a data portability plan?
Can you designate recipients? Some platforms let you name specific people who should receive your letters, with instructions for how and when.
How long has the company been around? This isn't a dealbreaker for newer companies, but it's worth knowing.

For a deeper look at how to evaluate secure storage for legacy documents, that guide covers the technical side in detail.

2. An encrypted local backup

Your second copy should live on hardware you control. An external hard drive, a USB stick, or an encrypted folder on your computer.

The key word is encrypted. You don't want a USB stick sitting in your desk drawer with an unprotected Word file on it. Anyone who picks it up can read everything.

Here's how to create an encrypted backup on each major platform:

On a Mac: Use Disk Utility to create an encrypted disk image. You can set a password and save the image to a USB drive or external hard drive. AES-256 encryption is the option to pick — it's the same standard banks use.

On Windows: BitLocker can encrypt an entire USB drive. Right-click the drive, select "Turn on BitLocker," and set a password. If you don't have BitLocker (it's not available on Windows Home), VeraCrypt is a free, well-respected alternative.

On either platform: You can also use a tool like 7-Zip to create a password-protected, AES-256 encrypted archive of your files. It's free and straightforward.

Store this drive somewhere safe — a fireproof safe, a locked drawer, or with a trusted person. And label it clearly enough that the right person knows what it is, but not so obviously that a stranger would be drawn to it. Something like "Personal Documents — see instructions in safe" works fine.

3. A physical printed copy

Yes, paper. I know we're talking about digital security, but a printed copy is the backup that needs zero technology to access. No passwords, no software, no electricity.

Print your letter, put it in a sealed envelope, and write the recipient's name on the outside. Store it with your other important papers — wherever you keep your will, insurance policies, and financial documents.

If your letter is deeply personal and you don't want anyone reading it early, put the sealed envelope inside a larger envelope marked with instructions: "To be opened by [name] after my passing."

This printed copy is your failsafe. If every digital system fails — and over a long enough timeline, some of them will — the paper version is still there.

The password problem (and how to solve it)

Here's where most legacy storage plans fall apart. You've got your letter saved, encrypted, backed up. Beautiful. But if nobody knows the password to open it, you've built a vault with no key.

You need a password-sharing plan, and it has to balance two things that pull in opposite directions: keeping your letter private while you're alive, and making it accessible after you're gone.

A few approaches that actually work:

A sealed password envelope. Write down the passwords and platform login info. Seal it in an envelope. Give it to a trusted person — your spouse, your attorney, your executor — with instructions not to open it unless something happens to you. This is old-school, but it's reliable.

A password manager with emergency access. Most good password managers (1Password, Bitwarden, Dashlane) have an emergency access feature. You designate a trusted contact, and if you don't respond to an access request within a set number of days, they get in. This is the modern version of the sealed envelope and it works well if the person you trust is somewhat tech-savvy.

A letter of instructions. This isn't your legacy letter — it's a separate document that tells your executor or family where everything is. "My legacy letters are stored on [platform]. My login is [email]. The password is in [location]. My USB backup is in the fireproof safe in the closet. The encryption password is the same as the one in the sealed envelope with [attorney's name]."

This letter of instructions is just as important as the legacy letters themselves. Without it, your family is guessing. And if you want a framework for how to share this kind of information with your family, this guide on sharing information with loved ones walks through the whole conversation.

What happens if the platform goes away?

This is the question people forget to ask. You pick a platform, upload your letters, set up your recipients, and then... what if the company folds in 2031?

It happens. Tech companies shut down all the time. And legacy-focused platforms are particularly vulnerable because their revenue model depends on people paying for something they won't need for years or decades.

Here's how to protect yourself:

Export regularly. Any reputable platform will let you download your data. Set a reminder — once a year, or whenever you update your letters — to export everything to your local backup. If a platform doesn't let you export your own data, that's a red flag.

Don't put all your eggs in one basket. This is why the three-copy approach matters. If your online platform disappears, you still have your encrypted local backup and your printed copy.

Check in annually. Once a year, log into your platform. Make sure it's still running, your account is active, and your designated recipients are still correct. People move, relationships change, and email addresses expire. A five-minute annual checkup prevents years of drift.

Read the terms of service. I know, nobody does this. But look for the section about what happens to your data if the service shuts down. Good companies will have a plan — they'll give you notice, export your data, or transfer it to a partner service. If there's nothing about this in the terms, ask customer support directly.

How to organize multiple letters

If you've written letters to several people — your spouse, each of your kids, a close friend — organization becomes its own task.

Keep a simple index. It can be a spreadsheet, a note on your phone, or a handwritten list. For each letter, note:

Who it's for
Where the digital copy is stored (platform name, filename)
Where the physical copy is (which envelope, which drawer)
When it should be delivered (after your death, at a specific milestone, on a certain birthday)
When you last updated it

That last item matters more than people think. A letter you wrote ten years ago might reference people, situations, or feelings that have changed. Updating your letters every few years keeps them honest and current.

A real-world setup that works

Let me walk you through what a solid storage plan looks like in practice. This is what I'd recommend to a friend over coffee.

Step one: Write your letters using a secure platform that supports end-to-end encryption. Name your recipients within the platform if it supports that feature.

Step two: Export your letters as PDFs. Encrypt them using a tool like 7-Zip with a strong password. Save the encrypted archive to a USB drive. Put the USB drive in your fireproof safe or give it to your attorney.

Step three: Print each letter. Seal them in individual envelopes with the recipient's name on the outside. Store them with your will and other important papers.

Step four: Write a separate letter of instructions that says where everything is, what the passwords are, and who should receive what. Give this to your executor, your spouse, or whoever will be handling your affairs.

Step five: Set an annual calendar reminder to check in. Log into your platform. Make sure your account is current. Reread your letters and update anything that's changed. Re-export if you've made edits.

That's it. Five steps. Maybe an hour of work total, spread over a Saturday morning. And after that, you can stop worrying about whether your words will reach the people they were meant for.

The thing people get wrong

The biggest mistake isn't picking the wrong platform or using the wrong encryption. It's doing nothing.

People write their letters and feel like the hard part is over. And emotionally, it is. But practically, a letter that's saved to your desktop in a file called "letter_final_v3.docx" isn't a plan. It's a hope.

The gap between writing a letter and making sure it gets delivered is small in effort but huge in impact. You've already done the hardest work — sitting with your own mortality and putting your heart on a page. The storing, backing up, and sharing part is just logistics. It's doable in an afternoon.

Your words deserve to land. Take the afternoon.

If you're looking for a place to start, When I Die Files was built for exactly this — a secure place to write, store, and deliver your legacy letters to the people who matter most.