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.
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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
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