Craig Baun’s career has been built on providing clients with the kind of stability they need in uncertain times. He is the advisor who has seen enough cycles to know which fears are worth taking seriously and which are not, or the steady voice at the end of the phone when markets are declining. He did just that from a downtown Calgary office for over 25 years, with more achievement awards on the walls than most advisors receive in a lifetime. His private health battle, which lasted for decades and ultimately influenced the last chapter of his life in ways his professional achievements could never have, was hidden behind those walls.
At some point in the mid-1990s, Craig received a hepatitis C diagnosis. According to all accounts, the diagnosis was made gradually after months of uncertainty and at least one incorrect diagnosis along the way. This type of medical delay leaves a person quietly uneasy long after the right answer is found. A viral infection causes hepatitis C, a liver disease that frequently progresses for years without showing any symptoms until the damage is too great to ignore. It’s possible that Craig’s illness went unnoticed during a significant portion of his most productive years, when he was establishing the Baun Investment Group, setting up one of the first Wellington-Altus offices in Calgary, and quietly gaining a clientele that trusted him with some of their most important financial decisions.
His health had significantly deteriorated by 2025. Although those close to him observed that he was still present at Aspire Wealth Partners, offering advice, mentoring, and being the person colleagues looked to for perspective, he had already taken a step back from day-to-day client responsibilities. That picture of a man with a serious illness who continued to contribute to the team he had spent decades building in whatever way he could is subtly striking. It conveys something about character that is difficult to translate into a job title.
Craig shifted away from the regimented realm of portfolio management in his later years. As part of his healing process, friends and coworkers reported that he turned to spirituality and the outdoors, became more sensitive to music, and spent time in a way that felt less planned and more deliberate. According to one account, he received a gift related to that musical journey from a close friend; this is a small but telling detail. It implies a man who had worked as a mathematician discovering something more intimate to cling to.
It’s difficult to ignore the fact that neither the assets under management nor the industry rankings received much attention in the tributes that poured in following his death on June 18, 2026. Craig Baun’s generosity, humor, and ability to make others feel good were all mentioned by those who knew him. Speaking at what seemed to be a memorial service, his coworker Darren Cooper referred to him as a “one of one human being”—a term that, depending on the speaker, can mean either nothing or everything. It seemed to mean everything in this instance.
Craig died with his three sons and wife, Luanne, by his side. He was sixty-five. Although there have been losses in Calgary’s wealth management sector in the past, people who worked with Craig Baun felt that he was the kind of person that the industry seldom produces—someone for whom the relationships it enabled truly took precedence over the work itself.