When Pam Cronrath’s husband Bill died last year in Wenatchee, Washington, she wanted a super wake. After years of searching, she found the technology and spent over $20,000 to bring him back as a hologram for their memorial service.

Around 200 people gathered, many unaware they were witnessing history. The hologram spoke directly to the room, even participating in Q&A sessions. “Now, before anyone gets confused, I’m not actually here in Valhalla today,” it began, immediately capturing attention.

Pam chose Bill’s quiet, reserved voice carefully over years of audio recordings. Engineers balanced his earlier strong tones with later weaker ones to create a recognisable likeness. The hologram joked about marrying Pam despite his nerves, leaving one son wondering only if the voice was “just a little bit off.”

Seven months on, Pam still watches the recording, moved by moments like when the hologram says, “I love you.” Experts warn of ethical concerns, suggesting such technology risks commodifying grief and making mourners dependent. For Pam, it’s a comfort to feel Bill is still present.