Finding Freedom in the Light: Celebrating Cory’s Legacy

On the first anniversary of Cory’s passing, I organized a small retreat at Jacob’s Well in Wimberley, Texas, a place layered with meaning and connection.

It felt deeply essential to carry forward Cory’s legacy of love and compassion, keeping his spirit alive through the bonds we share.

As part of this journey, I immersed myself in the sacred surroundings, spreading some of Cory’s ashes at this revered site.

As the ashes floated gracefully, they seemed to form the ethereal shape of a genie.

Overhead, the shadow of my best friend—who embodies so many of Cory's qualities—stood on the cliff, creating a poignant silhouette.

This moment captured the dance of darkness and light, themes we navigate throughout our lives.

Through periods of darkness, both in my life and in my shared experiences with Cory, it was always the presence of light that gave meaning and depth, for without the light, there would be no shadow.

I’ve chosen to focus on that illuminating light, finding within it the pathway to personal freedom.

Today, my heart overflows with immense gratitude for every experience—the trauma and the joy alike—for each one is enriched by the other.

My life, I view as an epic journey, and I am profoundly thankful to be here now to embrace it all.

—————-

If you’ve experienced the unimaginable loss of one of your children, I understand.

It’s really tough.

I want you to know that I AM here with you, ready to support you.

You are not alone, even though it feels like it.

I’m providing you here with a list of resources to help you through your grief journey.

https://linktr.ee/HealingHeartsSupport

Don’t hesitate to reach out to me.

I love you. ❤️

My Mysterious 5:00 PM Meeting

A few months after Cory passed, a woman online who resonated with our story messaged me:

"Keep talking to Cory. And tomorrow at 5 PM, sit quietly—you’ll feel and hear more."

"Why 5 PM?" I asked.

"You'll see," she replied.

The next day, while attending my niece’s brewery opening in New Orleans, I glanced at the time—4:55 PM.

I told my then husband, "I need a few minutes alone."

I stood in a nearby park beneath two oaks beside a statue of a woman and child.

Two homeless men lingered nearby.

When the church bells struck five, I felt a wave of presence.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

A man passed by and greeted another homeless man.

Was this the sign? But he kept walking.

Still unsure, I turned back to the car, grabbed my tote of socks and quote cards, and walked over to a man lying on the grass.

"Hi, I’m Denise."

"And I’m George," he smiled.

"Need some socks or water?"

"How about just a friend?" he replied, locking eyes with mine.

I sat with him and knew instantly—this was a divine encounter with Cory.

“We’re the same age,” he said.

“Really?” I replied, puzzled. “How old are you?”

“52,” he said, showing me his ID—born the same year, on April Fool’s Day!

He shared his story—raised in Monterey, California.

Once a heavy weed smoker on the beaches where he worked as a life guard.

Volunteered for the Red Cross, flown to New Orleans during Katrina.

Put up in a suite, he chose instead to live on a park bench and never left.

He worked daily among the homeless, not caring for material things.

As he spoke, I wept.

Every detail echoed Cory—his time on the beaches of San Diego and when he saved a friend from drowning, his service to others, the time he helped people during Katrina, his avoidance of dental work after the bike accident, his choice to intentionally live homeless in the Greenbelt of Austin, his minimalist ways.

I gave him a compliment card:

"The world is grateful you exist."

He asked about Cory. I shared. He offered condolences.

I gifted him Cory’s book. He insisted I sign it.

He casually pulled back his shirt collar to show me a scar.

“Broke my collarbone in a bike accident.”

“Why did you tell me that?” I gasped. “Cory also had a bike accident!”

Soon it was time to leave, and as George walked with me to the brewery, he told stories of hammocks in Costa Rica, black panthers beneath the trees—another Cory echo.

He met my family. They were curious, but not surprised.

They know I connect with souls society overlooks.

A few days later I called Jorge (his real name). 

I told him, "You were channeling Cory."

"I know," he said simply.

Soon after, his number stopped working.

He disappeared like a spirit on the wind.

Had I ignored the intuitive nudge, I would have missed this sacred exchange.

What a profound blessing to have been supported by Cory’s presence through so many creative ways.

——————

If you’re struggling with the trauma of loss, know that you don’t have to navigate this path alone.

I would love to hear from you and learn more about your journey.

I invite you to join our Healing Hearts Community, where together we can share, grow, and heal.

Learn more through the link below:

Healing Hearts Support for Bereaved Parents

Subscribe to this blog here…Blog RSS.

Grief Cracked Me Open

After my son Cory passed, my family and I traveled to Houston, Texas—the place where he had died—to see his body before cremation.

It was just three days after he left us, and as you can imagine, the experience was profoundly heartbreaking.

We decided that each of us would take turns spending time with him privately.

Afterward, we would all gather together one final time in his presence.

When I saw him, I was struck by how handsome and peaceful he looked.

Because he wasn’t being buried, he hadn’t been embalmed—which often gives a person an unnatural appearance.

Instead, Cory looked untouched and real.

He had just gotten a haircut the day before his trip to Houston, and in that moment, it looked as though he were simply taking a nap.

During my turn with him, I spoke softly, telling him how much I needed his help in carrying forward his legacy of love and compassion.

Tears flowed endlessly, as though my eyes were an open well of grief that had no bottom.

Later, when we were all assembled—my family and a few of Cory’s close friends sat quietly in the room.

I stood beside his body while the others sat in silence, each wrapped in their own sorrow.

And then something extraordinary happened.

Suddenly, I felt a rush of energy sweep over me—like cool water cascading up, down and through my entire body, as if I were standing beneath a spiritual waterfall.

I began laughing and crying at the same time, the feelings so overwhelming and alive that they moved through me with a power I couldn’t contain.

It was exhilarating!

I could feel my family watching, perhaps wondering if I was losing my mind.

I looked at them and pointed to Cory’s body.

“He’s not there,” I said, my voice trembling with awe.

Then I placed my hand over my heart.

“He’s here.”

That moment marked the first of what would become a cascade of supernatural experiences—gifts my beautiful son Cory would continue to offer as part of my grief journey.

I look back with immense gratitude—for the beauty, for the unbearable pain, for the unspeakable loss, and for the transformation that rose from its ashes.

Even, and especially, for the trauma.

Because without all of it, I wouldn’t be who I AM today.

Thank you, Cory.

I love you always.

————-

If you’re struggling with the trauma of loss, know that you don’t have to navigate this path alone.

I would love to hear from you and learn more about your journey.

I invite you to join our Healing Hearts Community, where together we can share, grow, and heal.

Learn more through the link below:

Healing Hearts Support for Bereaved Parents

Subscribe to this blog here…Blog RSS.

The Cycle of Life and Death: A Mother's Perspective

When my son Cory died, it felt as though my heart had been ripped out and discarded—much like the loss of a limb, except it was my heart that was taken away.

Later, I discovered that during pregnancy, fetal cells from the baby distribute throughout the mother’s body, embedding themselves into her organs.

This means that, in a profound way, your child becomes a part of you!

This phenomenon beautifully explains the deep bond between mother and child and why the impact of a child’s death is felt so intensely by a mother.

The cycle of life and death has intrigued me; I have witnessed it both in my external world and within myself.

As I journeyed through my grief, confronting Cory’s death head-on, I experienced my own egoic deaths nearly every day…

- Death to how I thought life should be…

- Death to my dreams and aspirations for Cory, my family, and myself…

- Death to my old way of being…

- Death to relationships that faded away…

- Death to the places I once held dear…

- Death to belief systems that once felt so vital to me…

Yet within this cycle, there is always life on the other side of death.

In facing my losses with courage, I also birthed new life…

- Life to a brand new world that looked nothing like my old one…

- Life to expanded dreams for myself and the shared experiences I now have with Cory on the other side…

- Life to perspectives I had never imagined—more open and vibrant…

- Life to new relationships with like-hearted souls and a fresh tribe…

- Life to my heart’s desire to live in Austin, TX, where I truly feel at home…

- Life to an exhilarating new reality I never thought possible.

Through this journey, I’ve learned that life and death are two sides of the same coin.

By embracing death, I was able to give birth to new life.

The death I experienced became fertile compost, nurturing rich beginnings that blossomed in ways I never could have envisioned.

As arduous and traumatic as it was to endure Cory’s passing, I am profoundly grateful for the gift of acceptance that enabled me to let go of the old and welcome in the new.

Death and life are among the most natural occurrences we face.

I am no longer afraid of death, for I now recognize it as an integral part of life’s progression.

Today, I feel immense gratitude for both my experiences with death and life, as well as the support I’ve received from Cory and others along my journey.

-————-

If you’re struggling with the trauma of loss, know that you don’t have to navigate this path alone.

I would love to hear from you and learn more about your journey.

I invite you to join our Healing Hearts Community, where together we can share, grow, and heal.

Learn more through the link below:

Healing Hearts Support for Bereaved Parents

Subscribe to this blog here…Blog RSS.