Paragon Funeral and Cremation Services

12/14/2025

🕯️ Sunday, December 14th
⏰ 7:00pm local time

12/14/2025

If the holiday season comes…
And I am no longer here..

Find us an ornament.

I know that it will feel heavy..
because we can’t be together this year..

But there is a way.

See..togetherness can be a feeling.
Memories can be intertwined to make it.
To link us. For always.

So find us an ornament..
Search with intention..
Remember.
The things we did together..
The places we went..
The love we shared..

See…as you search for this ornament..
The feeling of us will encompass you.
So many emotions will surface.

Some amazingly wonderful and some tinged with sadness.
But it all connects us. Right there. That feeling arrives..
I arrive..
In your search.

So find us that ornament.
And put it on your tree.
Spend time admiring it. And think of us.
I hope it brings you some needed comfort.
Because the memories of us are there for you always.

And I’m right there again with you..

When that feeling arrives again.

12/14/2025

Thank you Fancy Fork Cafe and Bistro for the wonderful evening, hosting our staff Christmas dinner. It’s great to see you thriving in Regina, at your new location! Merry Christmas!

12/09/2025

Joy doesn’t cancel grief.
Grief doesn’t cancel joy.
They just crowd the same space and fight for room.

People think you’re supposed to be one or the other.
Like if you’re laughing, you must be better.
If you’re sad, you must be slipping.
They have no idea how often both show up at the same time.

You can be present in your own life while carrying the truth that part of you changed the day you lost them. It doesn’t disappear because you had a good day. It doesn’t take over because you had a hard one. It’s both. Always both.

Some days joy wins.
Some days grief takes over.
That’s the tug-of-war of life that you now live in.

Aimee Suyko
In Their Footsteps

12/08/2025

When someone we love dies, whether we saw it coming or not, there is a moment when the world tilts. Something inside of us goes still, almost hollow, and it takes our breath in a way we are never quite prepared for.

In the early weeks we move through a blur, sorting not only the aching tangle of our own emotions, but also the endless practical tasks that come with loss. There are papers to sign, decisions to make, arrangements to follow through on. It’s hectic and heavy and tender all at once, life demanding things from us at a time when we can barely feel our feet on the ground.

Then, almost suddenly, the noise fades. The calls that once felt constant grow quiet, and in that quiet the echoes begin, echoes of the life we shared, the memories that find us in still moments, the reality we weren’t ready to face.

More time passes, and the world keeps moving as if nothing has changed, while we try to keep up even though everything inside of us has changed. We learn how to pretend a little, how to soften our edges so others feel more comfortable with our discomfort. Most people never see how hard it really is. We don’t often show them.

Just because you can’t see our grief doesn’t mean it isn’t there. What’s invisible to others is often the heaviest part of grief.

And when the anniversary of a death comes, whether it’s the first, the fifth, or the thirtieth, we remember. We always remember. We understand that others won’t, but we still wish they did. We carry a quiet longing for someone who understands this particular ache, but grief becomes a kind of secret we rarely speak aloud.

For what it’s worth, most of us don’t mind being asked about the person we lost. Please say their name. Give us permission to tell their story. Yes, we might cry, but the tears aren’t a burden, they are a form of remembering, and remembering is a gift.

Time can blur the details, and we work harder than people know to keep those memories clear. Sometimes the smallest invitation is all we need to feel a little less alone.

xo
Gabby (griever)
www.thehospiceheart.net

11/27/2025

Happy Thanksgiving to all our friends, family and colleagues in the USA 🇺🇸

11/24/2025

Locally, family owned and operated… Miles and Cole had the opportunity to work together on one of Saturday’s services.

11/17/2025

We live in a world that often pressures the grieving to rush through their grief. To get over it and move on. To return to "normal" even though their normal is no longer the same.

And the concept of time is so skewed as society tries to put limits on how long it's acceptable for someone to grieve. What is that? Why is it so hard for society to understand that there are those losses that will be grieved for the rest of our lives. Especially when a loved one dies.

It's a pain that is hard to describe. A void that sits so deep and takes up so much space it can be hard to breathe. It's a guttural scream that is trapped inside for days, weeks, and months. A scream that needs to come out yet is often hidden in silence so no one else can hear.

The death of a loved one hurts and while the grief can absolutely soften, the missing and whisper of sadness don't disappear. The loss of a loved one is not as simple as losing a contest, a necklace, a drivers license or a set of keys. It's so much more than an annoyance or frustration and your loved one can never be replaced. The death of a loved one is final. It's permanent and the wounds run deep. Time does't heal ALL wounds and everything changes and will feel raw. For a very long time.

Don't listen to the noise from the outside world. This is your personal experience and you get to grieve in whatever way feels right for you. You get to grieve as long as you need and give yourself permission to do what you need to do and not what others expect and need of you.

I'm truly sorry if you know the pain and heartbreak of the death of someone you cherish and love. I also hope that with time, you will be able to carve a path that leads forward instead of feeling trapped in deep grief. That your grief will soften and you can experience moments of happiness and laugh again. You and your grieving heart deserve that. Keep moving one step at a time, give yourself grace, lean on others and lean on me.

With love - michele

11/17/2025

Congratulations Saskatchewan

RIDER NATION!! FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 12 YEARS IT’S COMING HOME 🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆

11/16/2025

A little reminder as we head into the new week. You carried on, you are trying, and that will always be enough x

11/15/2025

You have every right to feel sorrow when you’ve lost someone you love.

Sometimes it feels like that grief is the only thing left connecting us, almost like letting go of a piece of it would erase their importance.

Honestly, it’s normal to cling to that pain; it’s proof that a bond existed that was too powerful to just fade quietly away.

Here’s the thing…I’ve learned, and maybe you’re still learning it too: holding onto sorrow doesn’t mean you have to stop living.

You’re not betraying their memory by smiling again, or by letting yourself feel moments of joy. I used to imagine that every happy moment was somehow disrespectful, or that moving on meant moving away from them. But over time, I realized that the oddly shaped ache of grief and the gentle promise of new experiences can sit together at the table.

I’ll never forget those first days when it felt like sadness was the only language I spoke. If you’re there now, or have been, you’re not alone. I still carry my loss, but I’ve learned not to carry it as a punishment. It visits me when I least expect it, a song, a season, an empty chair, and I honor it by feeling it.

Then, I remind myself: it’s okay to let light in, too. It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped loving the person who’s gone. It means I’m still here, and being here is a way to keep their legacy alive.

You deserve to keep living, even if that means letting sorrow share space with laughter. It’s not an either/or. You can hold both grief and hope, in the same heart.

Maybe next time joy sneaks up on you, let it. You’re not leaving anyone behind. You’re just showing how love and loss can walk together, day by day.

Gary Sturgis - Surviving Grief