Since I co-founded Mosaic, there have been many personal moments. I have put my life savings into the company, I have put stress on my beautiful and supportive wife, and spent countless nights and weekends away from my kids. This is normal for any entrepreneur and honestly we have probably had it easier than most.
There have also been wonderful and incredibly rewarding moments. Like when we released our app, crossed major milestones, and have returned anxious customers photos after a disaster.
But none of those moments were as personal as sharing my photos on my iPad with my dying Grandfather.
My Grandfather was very special to me. In addition to being the world’s best story teller, he was the original family entrepreneur. He started his own business after not being paid by his uncle for a 2 week vacation. After working for 50 years in his own business, he went to law school in his 70s (for fun) and day traded stocks into his 90s. He was a great man, even measured against those in the Greatest Generation. At my home office, I sit in his chair.
He died peacefully in his sleep at 96 years old. We knew he was going. His incredibly sharp mind was filling with the cobwebs of advanced Alzheimer’s. I made one last trip to say good-bye.
I didn’t plan this moment. It just happened. I had an hour with Grandpa. I had my iPad. I opened the Mosaic View App which was synchronized with my entire photo library. And we looked at old pictures we had scanned of him.
I told the stories, he always told me. When I told them, he would laugh at the right moments and even corrected me once. The photos brought him temporarily back as only photos can. I left knowing that it would be my final moment with him.
Pictures helped me say my good-byes. They helped bring a smile to my grandfathers face.
We created Mosaic so people could have those experiences by sharing memories. These unplanned moments where pictures are worth even more than a thousand words because no words will do.
Founding a startup is really hard. In this moment, my product helped me in a way that has shaped my last memory of my Grandfather. I write this sitting in my Grandfathers chair and hope that what we are doing would continue to make him proud and bring a smile to his face.
