Not too long ago, I lost a dear friend to Cancer. Actually, he was my “brother” in every sense of the word. I did not have to hide from him in any fashion; he knew the good, the bad, and the ugly of my entire life. Over the years, he came to know about my abuse as a child. He did not learn about it until we were full grown, and even then looked upon me with the same respect and caring as he had always shown me…even growing up. I believe that one of the biggest fears we have, after the abuse is over, is that no one really cares for us or more importantly, loves us. It was he who kept insisting that I was the “most grounded” and “spiritual person” (his words, not mine) that he knew…and I should write down my “history” (only he joked and called it my “herstory”) and share with others how I got to be in this place of peace. He is in Heaven, now and I know he is proud that I took his advice and never gave up. He was a remarkable man and lived a rich life. I am so Blessed to have known him. Often, “love” isn’t shown to us by parents and family…especially if we have dysfunction in our families…but often “love” finds us in other ways. Be open to receiving it.