To embrace.
Share a good morning, a photo, or a small thought — and it lands on the phone they're already holding. No waiting for Sunday.
Not a place to be looked after — a place to reach out. You choose what to share, when, and with whom. Big, clear, and never in a hurry.
What it actually looks like
Every screen below is a photograph of the app running on an ordinary phone — in the language your parent will see it in.
Nine things that matter
Omaku is small on purpose. Nine simple things, and nothing you don't need.
The date, a good morning, and whatever's on today — clear enough to read at a glance.
One small question to begin the day. Your answer becomes a little window your family can look through, wherever they are.
Your family can send you a question, too — "What smell takes you back to your childhood?" — the kind nobody thinks to ask until it's too late. Now they can.
A few spoken words, a photo, or just a tap to say I'm thinking of you. No typing unless you want to. It takes ten seconds.
Your family asks, you answer — and the conversation runs both ways.
Keep the photos, the stories, the sound of your own voice — the things your family will want to have for years. They stay yours.
Not a feed full of strangers. Just the people you love, and the small moments you share with one another.
A quiet daily list, so you don't have to hold it all in your head. (Omaku isn't a doctor — always follow yours.)
Your memories and your words never leave your device unless you choose to share them with your family. That's a promise.
If a few days pass quietly, Omaku gently lets your family know it might be a good time to reach out. It nudges them, never you.
For the family who set this up
You can set Omaku up in a few minutes and be in your parent's day from anywhere — on the same phone you're already holding all day long.
You set it up; they simply feel near. Omaku is free today — and the first 100 families to join keep it free, for good.
The founding story