Tri-City LLC Crematory - Funeral Home

12/28/2025

12/23/2025

Edited to include: Yes we will honor this $1,000 price for preplanning. Call one of our agents to schedule an appointment.

✅ Jamie Engle 870-323-2990
✅ Mikki Tarkington 870-530-8033
✅ Susan Robertson 870-564-2000
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During the Christmas season, we recognize that many families are facing unexpected hardship. For a very limited time, we are offering a temporary holiday reduction to $1,000 as a gesture of compassion to those in need.

This seasonal adjustment does not reflect a change in our standard pricing of $1,500 or the value of our services. Located in Manila, family owned and operated.

Susan Robertson
Tri-City Crematory Funeral Home
870-564-2000

Good through 1/31/2026

12/17/2025

When someone you cannot imagine surviving without dies, nothing stays the same. Not in the big ways and not in the small ones. Your life does not gently shift, it splits. The future you assumed you were walking toward disappears, and you are left in a life you did not choose and cannot undo.
You are still here, and that is confusing. You wake up, you eat, you answer messages, and none of it makes sense. Time moves in a strange, uneven way. Some days crawl. Others vanish. People around you keep living as if the ground did not fall out from under you, and that can feel stupid and pointless to witness.
Grief takes more than the person. It takes your sense of safety. It takes the version of yourself who believed life had some kind of order. You do not just miss them. You miss who you were when they were alive, and the life that only existed because they were in it.
If this sounds familiar, you are not broken. You really are NOT.
This is what happens when love loses its physical place to touch. You are not failing at grief. You are living inside it. You do not have to do this alone, even if it feels that way right now.

My book was published today. If you want to check it out, please see the link in bio or look it up on Amazon: Then and Now The Evolution of Grief.
I am grateful to and humbled by every one of you in this community.

12/16/2025

The world is a better place because you're in it 💙 If you or someone you know is struggling with tough thoughts or emotions right now, call the 988 Lifeline.

👉Never keep it a secret if a friend tells you about a plan to hurt themselves. Contact 988 so that you can find out what resources are available in your area, or encourage your loved one to reach out. Calls are routed to your local 988 Lifeline contact center that can provide you with resources.

12/14/2025

💔

This Sunday, December 14th, from 7:00–8:00 PM your local time, candles will be lit around the world for children gone too soon. I will light my lantern in memory of my daughter and think of every parent whose heart carries this lifelong love and pain. If you have lost a child, this is for you. If you know a grieving parent, this is for them. Light a candle, remember them, say their name. Sending you all love and hugs 🫂 ❤️

12/14/2025

No one tells you what happens after the tidal wave.

In the beginning, grief is loud. It crashes into you with no warning, taking your breath, your footing, your sense of safety. You can’t eat. You can’t sleep. You can’t believe this is real. The pain is so consuming, you wonder how the world around you keeps moving like nothing happened.

But then—slowly, cruelly—it does. The calls taper off. The texts become fewer. Life around you picks up again… just not yours. You’re left standing in the wreckage, trying to figure out how to live in a world that feels unfamiliar and wrong.

This is the part no one prepares you for.

Because grief doesn’t disappear when the casseroles stop coming or when the funeral flowers wilt. It doesn’t follow a timeline, and it certainly doesn’t care what anyone else thinks you should feel by now. It just… settles in. Quieter. Heavier. Always there.

You start to notice it in small moments. A song on the radio that makes your chest tighten. A familiar scent that stops you cold in the grocery store. An empty chair at dinner that still feels impossible to look at.

Grief becomes less of a storm and more of a shadow. It moves with you. Some days, you almost forget it’s there. Other days, it takes the wheel completely, and you’re back in the thick of it—sobbing in the car, staring out the window, wondering how this is your life now.

The hardest part? The world expects you to be “okay.” But how do you explain that you’re not broken—you’re just forever changed?

Grief doesn’t go away. It evolves. The sharp pain dulls. The raw wound scars over. But it never disappears. It becomes part of you—woven into your story, your laughter, your quiet moments. And strangely, it starts to feel… sacred. Because underneath it all, that pain is love. Real, lasting, life-altering love. And that love deserves space.

So if you’re still riding the waves—some days steady, some days drowning—please know this: you’re not failing. You’re not weak. You’re just human. And this? This is what love looks like when it doesn’t have a place to go.

There’s no finish line in grief. No “getting back to normal.” There’s only forward, one breath at a time. And in that forward, there is space for laughter again. For lightness. For joy.

Not because you’ve moved on.

But because your love is still here. And somehow, so are you.