I fell into a depression, chopped off my hair, and gave away my possessions. He noticed me then, so he took my hand and squeezed. And gently, ever so gently, he lifted up my sleeve. He wasn't shock by what he saw, the raw scars . . . the raw marks. He didn't turn his head in disgust nor did he judge. Instead, he just reached in and gave me the hug I'd been waiting for.