In the late winter of 2024, my paternal grandmother passed away. When spring arrived, my maternal grandfather left us too. Among the elders in our family, only my maternal grandmother remains.
One month before my maternal grandfather’s passing, my wife and I visited him and my maternal grandmother. We said to him, “Grandpa, you’re about to become a great-grandfather!” He had served in the navy and was always known for his strong physique. When he heard our words, his face lit up with joy.
A month later, on a morning when we received the news that my maternal grandfather had been rushed to the hospital after a sudden heart attack, I found myself replaying that moment of his bright smile in my mind. Then, on a cool October night when autumn’s breath grew sharper, my son Xiao Shu (“Little Tree”) entered the world with piercing cries. In every clear wail of this newborn, I kept returning to the promise we had made to my maternal grandfather earlier that year.
Kahlil Gibran wrote in Sand and Foam: “Memory is a form of meeting.” The full passage continues: “Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.” To this day, I confess I don’t fully grasp the latter half — there’s an unspoken sorrow beneath it, one I’d rather leave uninterpreted.
After finishing the app Treer in late 2024, I began working on Remember in early 2025. On a chilly morning or evening (the exact time now blurred), I typed out the homepage layout I’d envisioned in Xcode, then gradually fleshed out the first version’s features. Like with Treer, I skipped requirements documents, prototypes, and even UI design — my own profession — letting intuition steer the process.
During testing, when Zhao Yingjun’s song “Send You a Little Red Flower” first played through the speakers, when I successfully imported photos of my maternal grandfather from my album, when I painstakingly added captions to each image, and when the “Start Remembering” feature launched with that melody — our family memories with him glowed like constellations. Tears filled my eyes. This, I realized, was the purpose of creation: to reunite in the realm of remembrance.
May we all meet our loved ones again through memories.
Send you a little red flower,
To honor your courage
Through every struggle with destiny.
This humble app is dedicated to my dear maternal grandfather, paternal grandmother, and paternal grandfather.
Finished on a subway morning, March 25, 2025
2024 年冬末，我的奶奶去世，到了春天，我的外公去世。家里的老一辈只有外婆还在了。
外公走之前一个月，我和妻子去看外公外婆。我们俩对外公说，外公你马上就可以做太公啦。外公曾经是海军，身体素质向来很好，听到我们说这句话，他笑得很开心。
一个月后的某个早晨，当听到外公因突发心梗送去医院抢救的时候，我又想起了外公那时的笑容。同年十月里一个秋意渐浓的夜晚，我的儿子小树呱呱坠地。在孩子无数次清亮的啼哭里，我总能想起年初看望外公时对他说的那句话。
纪伯伦的《沙与沫》中写：回忆是相聚的一种形式。其实还有后半句：遗忘是自由的一种方式。老实说后半句我至今不理解，但隐约觉得悲伤更甚，还是不懂的好。
2024 年底做完 Treer 小树 后，我从今年年初便开始创作 Remember。在某个较冷的清晨或夜晚（具体时间已记不清），我在 Xcode 中敲出了我想象中的首页布局，然后逐渐完善第一期的功能。跟 Treer 一样，Remember 的创作也跳过了需求文档、原型图，甚至我的老本行UI 设计，信马由缰，心无旁骛。