The question lingers, heavy and unsettling, as if it has no place being asked in the sacred stillness of a funeral mass: How do we find encouragement when we are saying goodbye — not to one, but to two people who gave so much of themselves to the world around them?

It feels almost impossible to reconcile the weight of such a loss with the idea of hope.

TAIT: Couple's lives remind us to dream, to care and to encourage others Back to video

And yet, when we think of Paul and Gloria Frigon, their legacy rises gently to the surface, reminding us that their lives were a testament to the quiet power of encouragement — the kind that asks us to honour their memory not with grand gestures, but with small, deliberate acts of kindness and care, repeated every day.

I first met Mr. and Mrs. Frigon when I was 13. Their daughter, Katherine, was a grade ahead of me, and she had, quite effortlessly, stolen my heart. At the time, I was just discovering my love for writing. My teacher had turned two of my short stories into handmade books, and Katherine ended up with a copy of each.

When I met her mother, she told me how much she had enjoyed reading those stories. She said it more than once, and even at that young age, I could tell she truly meant it.

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Three years later, I wrote a longer novel. The day after 100 copies arrived, I asked a friend to drive me to the Frigon home so I could give Mrs. Frigon a copy. She greeted me with the same warmth and genuine interest she had shown years earlier, and as I was leaving, she said something that has stayed with me ever since: “You keep writing, Cam.”

Mr. Frigon, in contrast, was a man of few words, but his presence spoke volumes. His firm, warm handshake carried a quiet encouragement, a belief that I should continue on the path I had chosen.

Years passed, and I didn’t speak to the Frigons for some time. But in 1979, the day after I was hired by The Edmonton Journal on a freelance term, I called Mrs. Frigon to share the news. She listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and, just as before, said: “Keep writing, Cam.”

The last few years were not kind to Mr. and Mrs. Frigon. Their health declined, and on Dec. 27, Mr. Frigon passed away at 91. Just 20 days later, Mrs. Frigon followed him.

“It feels right that we gather for one funeral mass after 72 years of marriage,” Katherine said during her eulogy at St. Edmond’s.

Last week, I was in the hospital and told my doctor, Dr. Siad, how much I wanted to attend the service. “I’ll do my best,” she said, and though she had never met the Frigons, her words carried the same spirit of encouragement they had so generously shared.

On Thursday, Dr. Siad told me I was being discharged that evening.

I knew then that I had to write this — not just to honour their memory, but to share what decades of unwavering encouragement can do for a person.

It’s the Frigon way — a way of living that reminds us to dream, to create, to care, and to encourage others to do the same. If we carry even a small piece of that forward, their legacy will continue to shine, quietly and beautifully, in the lives of those they touched.

© Edmonton Sun