Most careers move in a straight line — school, a first job, steady steps up the ladder. Cameron Guest expected his to follow that pattern too. Instead, a family crisis pulled him in a direction he never planned for, and in doing so gave him a sense of purpose he might otherwise have missed.
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From the Football Field to the Family Trade
For much of his early adulthood, Cameron’s life revolved around sport. A running back at McMaster University, he built his days around training, competition, and the long-term ambitions that come with playing at a high level. Then, in 2021, his father was diagnosed with several forms of cancer, and the priorities he’d been chasing suddenly looked very different.
“Some things simply can’t wait,” he says. “I loved football, but my family came first.”
His father ran C&L Cemetery Lettering Inc., a specialized business devoted to monument engraving and restoration across Southwestern Ontario. Working from a mobile setup, he had spent years moving from one cemetery to the next — recutting faded inscriptions, repairing weathered stones, and keeping family memorials intact for the people who visited them.
Learning the Craft in the Hardest Way Possible
As his father grew more ill, Cameron set football aside and took up the tools himself. There was no gentle apprenticeship. He learned by doing — engraving letters, restoring damaged monuments, and working in settings where skill and sensitivity mattered in equal measure.
“A lot of trust was involved,” he recalls. “My dad understood that I was stepping in to protect what he’d built — the craft, but also the reputation that came with it.”
That period became two things at once: an intensive education in a demanding trade, and a profound personal passage through his father’s final year.
Building Something New
After his father passed, Cameron and his mother reached a crossroads. They could keep the mobile lettering service running exactly as it had been, or they could reimagine it on a larger scale.
In October 2023, they chose to grow. Together they opened Forest City Memorials, a monument-making and tombstone making company in London, Ontario. It was a substantial leap — new equipment, new supplier relationships, and a dedicated space where grieving families could sit down and be looked after in person.
“We weren’t only carrying something forward — we were creating something of our own,” Cameron says. “It was hard work, but it let us support families far more fully.”
Putting People Ahead of the Process
One of Cameron’s driving goals was to soften how families move through the memorial process. He had seen too many people feel hurried or lost, unaware that they could deal directly with a monument maker rather than routing every decision through a cemetery office.
“Grief already makes every choice harder,” he notes. “Families shouldn’t have to face confusion or pressure on top of it.”
At Forest City Memorials, consultations are deliberately slow. Families are invited to ask questions, share memories, and take whatever time they need before committing to anything. The aim is partnership rather than a simple sale — and, often, part of the healing itself.
Local Hands, Personal Results
In a trade where outsourcing has become routine, Cameron has made a point of keeping the work close to home. His team designs and engraves each monument on-site, which allows for far more customization and tighter control over quality.
Every memorial is treated as its own piece, shaped by the person it honours through careful design, lettering, and layout. “We want to bring dignity and beauty back to these places,” he says. “A cemetery should feel personal, not mass-produced.”
That approach has struck a chord with families around London, many of whom have gone on to recommend business to others. Its growth has come largely through word of mouth rather than advertising.
A Legacy That Keeps Going
For Cameron, the work means more than running a company. Each project is a quiet continuation of everything his father spent his life doing.
“What my dad created didn’t stop when he died,” he reflects. “It simply changed shape. I see him in every monument we finish and every family we help.”
His story isn’t about giving up on ambition — it’s about redefining it. By choosing family, responsibility, and service, he turned personal loss into a vocation grounded in empathy and craft. Sometimes the most lasting legacies aren’t the ones we plan, but the ones we build when our plans fall away.
