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The 12-Hour Memorial Video: Why I'll Never Build One From Scratch Again

Eight years ago, when my grandmother passed away, I volunteered to create her memorial video. I knew PowerPoint. I was the "tech person" in the family. I figured… how hard could it be?


Grandma Libby
Grandma Libby

Twelve hours later, eyes bleary, I finally exported the final version.

And it was beautiful. Family members cried. People asked for copies. The exhaustion felt worth it.


So when my stepfather passed away recently, I thought: "I've done this. This time will be faster."

I was wrong.

I Thought Experience Would Make It Easier. It Didn't.


What I didn't account for: We have more photos than ever before.

For my grandmother, we gathered maybe 60 images—scanned prints, emailed photos, one shared album. This time? Over 300 "must-have" photos scattered across texts, emails, iCloud, Google Photos, Facebook, and three different phones. I had to cut it down to 110, still a lot of photos.

I thought my experience would save me time. Instead, I faced the same tedious work—just multiplied by digital clutter and more pressure to "get it right."

That's when it hit me: We have better tools for almost everything in life… except this.

Creating a personalized memorial video in 2024 required the same manual process as it did in 2016.

Where the Time Actually Goes

If you've ever created a tribute video—or are about to—you'll recognize this timeline.


Hours 1–3: Scattered Photo Hunt & Gathering

  • Texting family members: "Did you send the photos from Dad's 60th?"

  • Downloading email attachments

  • Saving low-resolution Facebook images

  • Untangling pictures from half a dozen sources

Just collecting and consolidating photos took three hours—all while juggling funeral plans, phone calls, and grief.

Imagine if there were one simple link where family could upload photos, with automatic thankyou's sent to each contributor. (More on that later.)


Hours 4–6: The Chronological Puzzle - lifetime photo sort

A memorial video tells a life story. Order matters.

But timestamps lie:

  • Scanned photos from the 1970s mixed with iPhone pics from 2022

  • Missing dates entirely

  • Photos you've never seen, forcing you to guess the decade

I spent four hours sorting, dragging, and rearranging—assembling a visual timeline of a life well-lived.

It wasn't difficult. It was just draining during an already emotional week.


Hours 7–10: The Mechanical Tedium - Slide Buildout

Now the "real work":

  • Converting Apple HEIC files to JPEG

  • Importing each photo

  • Resizing, centering, adding borders

  • Checking alignment

  • Matching style across 80+ slides

Even working fast, that's 2-4 minutes per slide. Hours gone.

Wouldn't it be helpful to have a library of tasteful, ready-made memorial backgrounds? You shouldn't reinvent the wheel—just select the best one from a proven menu.

Hour 10-12+: Video Creation, Relearning the Software… Again

  • Transition timing

  • Music syncing and crossfades

  • Export settings

  • Rewatching, adjusting, re-exporting

All while thinking: "Didn't I learn this eight years ago?"

By the end, I had a video I was proud of—but at the cost of exhaustion and hours I wish I'd spent the time with family instead of fighting software.

The Question That Changed Everything

Why is this still so hard?

I don't use paper maps anymore. I don't balance my checkbook by hand. I don't search the Yellow Pages.

But creating a memorial video—something families desperately need during one of the hardest weeks of their lives—still required the same manual steps as a decade ago.

We No Longer Use Paper Maps
We No Longer Use Paper Maps

The truth is, the technology exists to make this easier:

  • Face recognition

  • Age estimation

  • Automatic formatting

  • AI-powered video assembly

It just hadn't been applied to this problem yet.

The Real Question

It isn't: "Can I make a memorial video on my own?"

(You absolutely can.)


The real question is: "How do I want to spend those 12 hours?"

On repetitive technical work? Learning new templates? Sorting old photos?


Or with the people who need me—sharing stories, comforting each other, being present?

For me, the answer is clear.

I'll never build one from scratch again—not because I can't, but because now… none of us have to. I am also not buying another paper map.

About the Author

This article was written by Brandt, co-founder of Memorial Video AI. After spending 12+ hours creating memorial videos manually for his own family, he built an AI-assisted platform to help other families create professional, personalized tribute videos in about an hour—without sacrificing meaning, quality, or control.

 
 
 

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