Picture the person who would settle your affairs if something happened to you tomorrow. Maybe it's your spouse, your sister, your adult kid. Now hand them your life as it actually exists: two email addresses, a bank you've only ever visited through an app, a brokerage account, twenty years of family photos in the cloud, a domain name that auto-renews to a card they can't access, a crypto wallet with a seed phrase you've never spoken aloud, and a couple hundred logins protected by a password manager they don't know exists — behind a phone they can't unlock.
Traditional estate planning has this problem mostly solved for physical things. The will names who gets the house. The deed, the titles, and the beneficiary forms do the paperwork. But the average person now carries a second, invisible estate made of accounts — and for most families, nothing covers the logins.
The result isn't hypothetical. Families lose photo libraries because nobody could get into a cloud account. Small online businesses go dark because a domain lapsed. Crypto becomes permanently unreachable — industry estimates suggest a meaningful share of all Bitcoin is already lost forever, much of it to exactly this failure. And grieving relatives spend months on the phone with support departments that are legally required to tell them no.
Digital estate planning is the fix, and it is far less morbid and far more doable than it sounds. This guide walks through what it is, then gives you the full checklist — six steps you can genuinely finish in a weekend.
What is digital estate planning, exactly?
Digital estate planning is the process of deciding what should happen to your online accounts and digital assets when you die or become incapacitated — and, crucially, making it possible for someone to carry those decisions out.
That second half is the part people miss. A wish without access is just a wish. Your executor can hold a court order and still spend months locked out, because most platforms' terms of service prohibit anyone else from logging in with your credentials, and privacy law often prevents companies from simply handing over your data to relatives.
So a real digital estate plan has three layers:
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The inventoryA complete list of what exists — every account, asset, and subscription — so nothing is orphaned simply because nobody knew about it.
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The authorityThe legal permission for a specific person to act: language in your will or power of attorney, plus the legacy-contact settings platforms offer.
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The accessThe practical means to actually get in — credentials, codes, and recovery keys, stored securely outside the will and findable by the right person.
Miss any one layer and the other two stall. The checklist below builds all three.
Inventory every account — yes, even the loyalty points
Start with a plain list. Not passwords yet — just what exists and where. The goal is that your executor never has to guess whether there's a second brokerage account or wonder which cloud service holds the baby photos.
Work through categories rather than trying to remember accounts cold. A useful pass looks like this:
Two categories deserve special care. Email first: your primary inbox is the master key to everything else, because it's where every other account sends its password resets. If your executor can reach your email, half the estate unlocks itself; if they can't, almost nothing does. Crypto second: self-custodied wallets have no support line and no recovery process. If the seed phrase dies with you, the asset is gone — not frozen, gone.
Don't skip the small stuff. Airline miles and hotel points are often transferable to family if someone claims them (policies vary, so note the program). Domains and hosting quietly expire and can be bought by strangers. And subscriptions keep billing a dead person's card for years — listing them is a gift to whoever has to cancel them.
Set up legacy contacts where platforms support them
The big platforms have quietly built official tools for this, and almost nobody turns them on. They cost nothing and take minutes:
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Apple — Legacy ContactIn your Apple Account settings (under Sign-In & Security), you can name one or more Legacy Contacts. They receive an access key; after your death, that key plus a death certificate lets them request access to your iCloud data — including the photo library that would otherwise be sealed inside Apple's encryption.
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Google — Inactive Account ManagerGoogle lets you decide, in advance, what happens if your account goes quiet. Pick a waiting period, choose up to a handful of trusted people to notify, and select exactly which data (Gmail, Drive, Photos) they may download. You can also have the account auto-delete afterward.
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Facebook — memorialization or legacy contactFacebook lets you choose whether your profile should be memorialized (frozen as a remembrance page, managed by a legacy contact you name) or permanently deleted when Facebook learns of your death. Deciding now spares your family a genuinely painful support process later.
These tools matter because they work with the platform's rules instead of against them. A legacy contact doesn't need your password and isn't violating any terms of service — the platform hands over data through a sanctioned door. Check the equivalent settings on any other service you care about; more platforms add them every year.
Document access for your executor — never in the will itself
Here's the trap well-meaning people fall into: they type their passwords into the will. Don't. When a will goes through probate, it typically becomes part of the public court record — readable by anyone who cares to look. A will with your banking password in it is a published invitation.
There's a second problem: wills are static. You'll change your email password a dozen times between now and whenever the will is read. A password written in a legal document is stale within months.
The right structure splits the job in two. The will (or trust) carries the authority: language authorizing your executor to access and manage your digital assets, and a pointer that a secure inventory exists. A separate, secure, updatable store carries the access: a password manager's emergency access feature, an encrypted vault, or at minimum a sealed letter in a safe-deposit box — anything that can be kept current without lawyers involved.
The honest test of whether this layer works is simple, and most households fail it today: could your spouse actually get into your accounts right now, with you unavailable? If the answer is "sort of, if they guessed the phone PIN," step three is where your weekend goes.
Two details people forget: device passcodes (a phone or laptop PIN gates everything on the device, including the authenticator app) and two-factor codes (if your executor has the password but the 2FA codes go to a locked phone, they're still stuck — document backup codes too).
RUFADAA, fiduciaries, and one hour with an attorney
A light word on the law, because it's genuinely on your side here. Most US states have adopted a version of the Revised Uniform Fiduciary Access to Digital Assets Act (RUFADAA). In plain terms: if you've authorized it — through a platform's own legacy tool, or in your will, trust, or power of attorney — your fiduciary (executor, trustee, or agent) can lawfully access your digital assets. If you haven't, platforms can and often will refuse, and your family may need a court order for even basic information.
The practical takeaway is that a sentence or two of digital-assets language in your estate documents dramatically changes what your executor is allowed to do. The exact wording, and how it interacts with your state's version of the law, is squarely a job for an estate attorney — if you're updating a will anyway, ask them to include digital asset authorization. It's a small addition to the bill and a large subtraction from your family's future headaches.
This guide is general information, not legal advice — state laws differ, and an estate attorney can tailor the documents to yours.
The full digital estate planning checklist
Everything above, condensed into the six boxes to tick. Print it, or better, work through it with your partner on a Sunday afternoon:
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1. Inventory every accountFinancial, email, cloud photos and files, domains, crypto, subscriptions, loyalty programs, social profiles, and device PINs. List what exists and where — the map comes before the keys.
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2. Turn on legacy contactsApple Legacy Contact, Google Inactive Account Manager, Facebook memorialization settings, and any equivalent on platforms you rely on. Free, official, five minutes each.
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3. Document access — outside the willStore credentials, backup codes, and seed phrases in a secure, updatable place. The will authorizes your executor and points to the store; it never contains a password, because probate makes wills public.
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4. Decide per-account wishesFor each account: close it, memorialize it, or transfer it. The photo library transfers to family; the dormant forum account closes; the Facebook profile memorializes. Write the wish next to the account in your inventory.
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5. Review it yearlyAccounts appear, passwords rotate, platforms change their tools. A stale plan fails almost as badly as no plan. Pick a fixed date — a birthday, New Year's, tax day — and give it twenty minutes.
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6. Tell one trusted person where the map livesThe most complete plan on earth is worthless if nobody knows it exists. One sentence to one person: "If anything happens to me, the account map is here, and here's how you open it."
Make it a living map, not a document in a drawer
Here's where most digital estate plans quietly die: they get done once, as a document, and then drift out of date. The spreadsheet from 2023 doesn't have the new bank. The sealed envelope has last year's passwords. Steps five and six — keep it current, keep it findable — are the ones a static document is worst at.
The fix is to treat the plan as part of your household's ordinary life admin rather than a one-time legal event. This is exactly the thinking behind a family emergency binder — one always-current place where the accounts, policies, documents, and "who to call" details live, shared with the people who'd need them, so the estate plan is simply a view of records you already keep.
That's also how we approach it at Squirreld. The categories you'd inventory for an estate plan — finance links, memberships and subscriptions, vehicles, warranties, gift cards — are the same ones Squirreld already tracks day to day, and everything can be shared with family so the map is never trapped on one person's phone. The sensitive layer belongs in the encrypted vault: Wi-Fi and device codes, safe combinations, and account access notes stored encrypted, masked by default, and shareable with exactly the people you choose. And that yearly review from step five? Set an email reminder with a lead time and let the system nudge you, the same way it nudges you before a warranty or membership lapses.
However you build it — binder, password manager, Squirreld, or all three — the standard is the same: current, encrypted, and findable by one trusted person. That's the whole game.
Common questions
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What is digital estate planning?Digital estate planning is deciding what happens to your online accounts and digital assets — email, photos, financial logins, domains, crypto, social profiles — after you die or become incapacitated, and giving someone you trust both the legal authority and the practical access to carry those wishes out.
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Should I put my passwords in my will?No. A will typically becomes part of the public court record when it goes through probate, so anything written in it can be read by strangers. Keep passwords in a separate, secure place — a password manager or encrypted vault — and let the will simply authorize your executor to access them.
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What happens to my online accounts when I die?It depends on each platform's terms of service and your state's law. Some accounts can be memorialized, some can be closed by next of kin with a death certificate, and many are simply frozen. Under the RUFADAA-style laws adopted in most US states, a fiduciary can access digital assets far more easily if you've authorized it in your estate documents or through the platform's own legacy tools.
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How do I set up a legacy contact on my iPhone or Google account?On Apple devices, add a Legacy Contact in your Apple Account settings under Sign-In & Security; your contact receives an access key they can use, along with a death certificate, to request your data. For Google, turn on Inactive Account Manager, choose a waiting period, and pick who gets notified and which data they can download. Each takes about five minutes.
Build the map while it's easy. Inventory your accounts, lock the codes in the vault, and share it with the one person who'd need it.
Start your family's account map