In 2014, my son, Cory Roussel, passed from this life into the next, leaving an unfillable void in our hearts and plunging our family into a new existence shaped by grief and longing.
Yet, even in the depths of sorrow, I am reminded of the boundless love we shared, a love that neither time nor loss can ever erase.
One of the most powerful expressions of this love unfolded during a chapter of Cory’s life that was marked by struggle and transformation.
He had been incarcerated in downtown San Diego after his probation was revoked due to a charge of transporting an illegal immigrant across the border.
It was a time that could have easily consumed him, but instead, it became a period of remarkable change—one that reshaped both him and me in ways I could never have foreseen.
Before his return to prison, Cory carried a heavy burden—anger, frustration, and deep-seated resentment toward a probation system he believed had failed him.
These emotions clouded his world, casting a shadow over our interactions.
The weight of his pain was evident, and as his mother, I grieved for the son I longed to reach but often felt powerless to comfort.
Then, something extraordinary happened.
Just before his probation was revoked, Cory experienced what can only be described as a supernatural awakening—an unshakable courage to forgive.
It was as if a Divine light had pierced through the darkness, granting him the ability to release the hatred he had carried for so long.
With that release came an inner peace, a newfound purpose.
He embarked on his prison sentence not as a man imprisoned by his circumstances, but as one liberated by grace.
During his time behind bars, Cory wrote letters—countless letters—to friends, family, and even strangers, sharing the freedom he had found within himself.
It was as if, in losing his physical freedom, he had gained something far greater—a soul untethered by resentment, a heart wide open to love.
His words turned my world upside down, forcing me to see life through a new lens, one of forgiveness and unshakable faith.
Eight months into his sentence, my birthday approached.
I knew exactly what I wanted—a chance to be with my son.
Because of strict prison regulations, I was granted only two brief visits, two hours each, on consecutive days.
When Friday arrived, I made my way to the high-rise prison in downtown San Diego, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Upon entering the visitation room, I was allowed to embrace him once—just one fleeting moment of contact before we were seated across from each other in cold white plastic chairs, separated by an invisible yet palpable barrier.
But then, he locked eyes with mine.
For two hours, Cory held my gaze with an intensity I had never known before.
There, in the sterile confines of a prison visitation room, my son allowed me to see him—not just the man he was in that moment, but his truest self.
He had stripped away all pretense, all pain, all fear.
What remained was pure, unfiltered love radiating from his eyes, a love so fierce and unwavering it took my breath away.
It was a revelation of Love.
On Sunday, unable to visit him in person, Cory made a simple yet profound request.
He told me to go to the park across the street from the prison at precisely three o’clock.
From his cell on the fifteenth floor, he would stand at the window, and I was to look up.
As I prepared to go, I wanted to find a way to send him a message—a tangible symbol of my love.
I thought about making a sign, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to read it from such a distance.
Then an idea struck me. I tore a large heart out of aluminum foil, its reflective surface shimmering in the light.
At exactly three o’clock, I stood in the park, heart pounding, eyes squinting against the bright sky as I searched for him.
And then—I saw him.
Fifteen stories above me, behind a thick pane of glass, was my son, waving wildly, his arms flailing with joyful abandon.
In his hands, he held a mirror, tilting it back and forth, catching the sunlight and sending brilliant flashes of light down to where I stood.
I held my foil heart high, letting it glisten in the afternoon sun, reflecting my love back to him.
For fifteen minutes, we stood there—mother and son—separated by distance, by walls, by circumstance, yet connected in a way that transcended it all.
He sent his light to me; I sent mine to him.
In that moment, nothing else existed.
No prison bars, no past regrets, no sorrow—only Love.
Pure, boundless, eternal love.
That day changed me.
Cory’s love transformed me, just as it transformed him.
Even now, though he is no longer in this world, his light continues to shine within me, guiding me forward.
I love you, Cory. Always.
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In addition, I’ve developed a comprehensive support document filled with valuable information to assist you as you navigate this healing process. You can access Healing Hearts Support Document HERE.
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Today, ten years after Cory’s passing, I want to offer others what I wished had been available to me. I have developed a one-on-one support offering to assist bereaved parents in their healing journey and to help them connect with their departed child.
If this resonates with you, let’s have a chat to explore whether this is the right fit for you.
Learn more and connect with me HERE.
I am here to serve you with compassion and understanding.
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