What I Wish Others Knew When I Was Going Through the Depths of Grief

Losing my son, Cory, was the most gut-wrenching and traumatic experience of my life.

Thankfully, he came to me quickly as my Spirit Guide and has supported me masterfully from the other side.

But during that time—when I needed other humans the most—many didn’t have the energy or capacity to be there for me.

I was a mirror for the pain they didn’t want to feel.

And though I know they cared deeply, they simply didn’t know what to say or do… so they avoided me.

I want to share what would have truly helped me, in hopes that when you meet someone walking through deep grief, you’ll feel more confident reaching out in ways that genuinely support them.

1️⃣ Let Them Feel

After Cory passed, I knew instinctively to allow myself to feel everything.

Most people aren’t comfortable with that—because they can barely hold their own feelings, let alone someone else’s.

The best way to support someone who’s grieving is to let them feel without trying to make them feel better.

Their sadness isn’t wrong.

What creates suffering is resisting the grief.

Avoid sugarcoating or offering silver linings like, “He’s in a better place.”

Instead, try:

“I’m so sorry. I’m here for you. You can share whatever feels right, and I’ll listen.”

2️⃣ Let Them Remember

I needed to know that Cory’s life mattered—that he was special, that he was still here in some way.

But most people avoided talking about him, afraid it would upset me.

In truth, that silence hurt even more.

Let people talk about their loved ones, even if it brings tears.

Remembering them keeps them alive in our hearts—and it heals.

The next time you meet someone grieving, ask:

“Tell me about them. What were they like? How did they live?”

That simple invitation can make their whole day.

3️⃣ Let Them Be

There is no timeline for grief.

Don’t rush someone through it.

The most supportive thing you can do is allow them to have their own experience—while reminding them you’re there, no matter what.

People don’t need to be fixed.

They need loving, nonjudgmental presence.

They don’t need advice; they need to know you understand.

Simply listening with compassion is far more healing than suggesting solutions or therapies.

Wisdom and perspective can come later—after presence and understanding have been offered.

4️⃣ Let Them Know They’re Not Alone

One of the most healing things you can say is simple and true:

“Though you feel alone, you are not alone. I’m here with you.”

The Day I Lost My Son and Began to Find MySelf

Eleven years ago today, I woke to a phone call from the Harris County Medical Examiner’s office informing me that my son, Cory, had died.

The news hit like a lightning strike — shocking, disorienting, and utterly devastating.

And yet, even in that moment of heartbreak, I felt mysteriously held and supported by something larger than myself.

Within days, Cory began revealing himself as my Spirit Guide, and we embarked on a journey that has been nothing short of epic.

Through the depths of my grief, I learned how to love myself.

Through unimaginable loss, I discovered that death is only an illusion — that when souls leave their human bodies, they simply shift into another dimension of being.

I AM no longer afraid of death, because I know now that it is merely the other side of the coin of life.

Throughout my own life, I’ve experienced many deaths and rebirths — the natural rhythm of transformation that all living things must pass through.

There must be a deconstruction before a reconstruction, a letting go before renewal.

Today, I feel profound gratitude — for my continued connection with Cory, for the life we co-create across the veil, and for the opportunity to share this journey with others who are walking through their own grief and awakening.

I would not change a thing.

Every moment has brought me to this beautiful life I now live — a life rooted in love, freedom, and truth.

If it weren’t for Cory and the work we’ve done together, I would not be the woman I AM today.

So today, I celebrate Cory.

I celebrate myself.

And I celebrate the sacred, ongoing partnership we share.

You Don’t Have to Grieve Alone

Working with grief can be an incredibly isolating experience.

When my son Cory died, everyone in my family seemed to go in different directions to cope with their grief—and no one wanted to talk about it.

Most of my friends cared deeply, but they didn’t know what to say or how to sit with the intensity of my pain.

To add insult to injury, my healing was happening so rapidly—with Cory’s guidance from the other side—that many bereaved parents found my presence triggering.

I felt profoundly alone.

Thankfully, Cory became my greatest teacher and support, and a few dear friends walked with me through the darkest times.

It’s been eleven years now, and I’ve come a long way.

Through this sacred journey of grief, I’ve learned how to meet intense emotions with love, awareness, and compassion—and how to transform them into healing.

Out of that experience, I created The S.P.A.C.E. Process—a framework for everyone navigating emotional pain:

Stillness. Presence. Authenticity with Acceptance. Connection with Compassion and Empathy.

Earlier this year, when I asked Spirit, “How can I be of more service?” the answer came clearly:

Support bereaved parents.

So I developed Healing Hearts, a 10-week program that includes one-on-one sessions with me, ongoing text support, and access to emergency calls when you need them most. There’s also a small group component, so you can walk this path with others who understand.

If you’ve lost a child, please know—you don’t have to do this alone.

I would love to have a conversation with you, to hear about your child and your journey, and to see how I might support you through this time.

Contact me Working with grief can be an incredibly isolating experience.

When my son Cory died, everyone in my family seemed to go in different directions to cope with their grief—and no one wanted to talk about it.

Most of my friends cared deeply, but they didn’t know what to say or how to sit with the intensity of my pain.

To add insult to injury, my healing was happening so rapidly—with Cory’s guidance from the other side—that many bereaved parents found my presence triggering.

I felt profoundly alone.

Thankfully, Cory became my greatest teacher and support, and a few dear friends walked with me through the darkest times.

It’s been eleven years now, and I’ve come a long way. 

Through this sacred journey of grief, I’ve learned how to meet intense emotions with love, awareness, and compassion—and how to transform them into healing.

Out of that experience, I created The S.P.A.C.E. Process—a framework for everyone navigating emotional pain:

Stillness. Presence. Authenticity with Acceptance. Connection with Compassion and Empathy.

Earlier this year, when I asked Spirit, “How can I be of more service?” the answer came clearly:

Support bereaved parents.

So I developed Healing Hearts, a 10-week program that includes one-on-one sessions with me, ongoing text support, and access to emergency calls when you need them most. There’s also a small group component, so you can walk this path with others who understand.

If you’ve lost a child, please know—you don’t have to do this alone.

I would love to have a conversation with you, to hear about your child and your journey, and to see how I might support you through this time.

Contact me here:

https://www.creatinganewearth.org/contact

Click HERE to learn more about Healing Hearts

https://www.creatinganewearth.org/healing-hearts

Together, we are growing, healing, and creating a new earth.

A Tribute to Cory

On this day, October 26, eleven years ago, a powerful soul slipped out of his earth suit and crossed to the other side.

His name was Cory Roussel, and I was honored and privileged to call him my son.

Unlike most, he lived a life untouched by convention — a rare and radiant being who remembered why he came here.

He knew his mission, and he followed it with unwavering precision, even when it shattered everything familiar.

It took immense courage to be different, to walk into the depths of darkness in order to reclaim his own light.

And he did it — fully, bravely, and on his own terms.

A true rebel and renegade, he was sent here to herald a new way of being.

Yet so often, he was misjudged — seen as the screw-up, the black sheep, the lost soul.

But what the world couldn’t see is that his work was never about fitting in or chasing what this world calls “success”.

His mission was the evolution of consciousness — the alchemy of suffering into freedom.

His victories weren’t measured by status or possessions but by the inner liberation he modeled for others who walk through addiction, homelessness, and imprisonment into true FREEDOM.

In one of his letters from prison, Cory wrote that his goal in this life was the “crystallization of consciousness” — to bring heaven to earth in a tangible way by living a life utterly transformed.

To do that, he had to walk through hell — not so that others wouldn’t have to, but to make it easier for those who would come after him.

He showed us that facing our inner demons is possible — that when one person finds the courage to do it, it awakens courage in countless others.

Like the runner who first broke the four-minute mile, Cory broke through an invisible barrier in consciousness, and by doing so, he made it possible for others to do the same.

He and I have walked side by side through many lifetimes. In this one, he chose the harder role — and fulfilled it with fierce grace.

Today, I honor Cory for his contribution to humanity — for being a living embodiment of what it means to be the change you wish to see in the world.

Thank you, my beloved son, for being Love, for being Presence, for being Truth — for being YOU.