A worksheet for organising the things your family would need to know — without writing the secrets down.
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If something happens to you, the people who love you will already be carrying enough. This worksheet is a way to make sure they aren't also left wondering where to look, who to call, or what you would have wanted.
The trick to doing this safely is a simple separation: the index stays here, the secrets stay elsewhere. This document tells your family what exists and where to look. It does not — and must not — contain the actual passwords, seed phrases, or keys. Those live in your password manager (with emergency access enabled) and, for high-value items, split across trusted people using a scheme like Shamir's Secret Sharing.
The index can sit relatively openly with family. The secrets get released by mechanisms that only fire when needed.
Who is this document for, and when was it last touched?
The few names that matter most when something goes wrong.
The person who takes the lead. They don't have to be a lawyer — just someone calm, organised, and trustworthy.
Two or three others who could step in, or who hold pieces of the puzzle (Shamir shares, copies of this document, etc).
Accountant, lawyer, financial advisor, doctor — anyone they may need to call.
A map of the physical and digital spaces. Locations only — never contents.
Safe, safety deposit box, filing cabinet, drawer where the passport lives. Not the combinations.
Phones, laptops, tablets, hardware wallets. Where they are, not what unlocks them.
Scans of deeds, photos of safe locations, anything that belongs alongside this chapter. Encrypted into the backup, never uploaded anywhere.
For each thing you run, what it is and what should happen to it.
For each business, the most useful thing you can leave behind is a clear answer to "what should we do with this?": continue, sell, or wind down. After that comes the operational detail — but the decision is the gift.
An inventory of what exists. The keys live elsewhere.
Money flowing in either direction that isn't already on a statement somewhere.
Loans to friends, advances, IOUs. Your family won't know about these unless you tell them.
Personal debts that aren't on a credit report.
Subscriptions to cancel, services to keep running, profiles to memorialise or close.
The bulk of your hundreds of accounts will be in the password manager — the executor can work through them there. But a few warrant flagging directly: the ones with recurring charges, the ones holding meaningful data, and the ones tied to your identity.
Domain registrations, hosting, business essentials.
What should happen to each: memorialise, close, or hand to a specific person.
Most major platforms let you name someone to receive your data after you're gone. This takes about fifteen minutes total.
These are proactive tools — you set them up now, while alive. They sit dormant until the platform notices you've stopped checking in, then they release what you've authorised to the contact you've chosen.
The personal things. There are no wrong answers here.
You don't have to write the letters here. List who you'd like to leave a message for, and where the message can be found (a sealed envelope, a video file, a folder in Drive).
Anything else you'd like noted. Small things, big things — whatever doesn't fit elsewhere. One per thought.
The accounts that hold money, grow money, or pay out money. Not the balances — just where they are and who can find them.
Banks usually require a death certificate before they'll talk. Your family won't always know which institutions to call. List them here so they aren't piecing it together from old statements.
Brokerage accounts, ISAs, IRAs, 401(k), workplace pensions, employee share schemes — anything that holds money for the long term.
Life is the obvious one. Don't forget disability, critical illness, mortgage protection — and any policy that pays out on death or terminal illness.
The big physical things — and where the paperwork that proves they're yours lives.
Homes, flats, land. Owned, rented, or somewhere in between.
The animals who depend on you. They can't read this, but the people who'll care for them can.
Talk to whoever you'd want to take them before putting them down here. A surprise inheritance of a parrot is not a kindness.
A rough order of operations. Tick as you go.
Doing this well is not a morbid act. It is one of the most generous things you can do for the people who love you. They will already be in the worst week of their lives. The version of them who has to deal with your accounts, your businesses, your unfinished things — that person will be grateful you sat down and did this.
You don't have to finish in one sitting. Save what you've got. Come back next weekend. Update it twice a year. The point isn't perfection; it's that something thoughtful exists, somewhere they can find it, when they need it most.
Everything you've typed lives in your browser. The free Export backup downloads it as plain JSON. The encrypted version protects it with a passphrase, so a stolen file is useless without the words you chose.
After purchase, you'll receive a license key by email. Come back here, click "I already have a license key", and paste it in to activate.
Paste the key from your purchase email. It's a series of letters and numbers separated by hyphens.
This is the only thing that can open your backup. Make it long enough to remember but hard to guess. A sentence with personal meaning works well.
Your key is saved on this device so you don't have to paste it every time. You can use the same key on any browser or device — it doesn't bind to one. Remove it here if you want to clear it from this device.