The sun shines through the still-bare tree branches on a chilly spring morning. The perfect kind of day to wear a warm sweater and sit beside her only and forever love.

Without exception every single day, a coffee-filled thermos in hand, Cynthia joins her husband Sam; that's what soulmates do. Always first thing in the morning, before the day unfolds. Weather never really changes anything; even when it rains, he is her sunshine. When winter winds howl, his heart songs keep her warm.

Just a few short months ago they were packing up their lives to move into their newly purchased home. In ten days their dream house was coming to fruition. Next on their agenda, their second dream; having kids and building a future. But sometimes plans fall faster than a plummeting plane. In the middle of a minute, the hands of time stopped, like a broken clock. Even a broken clock is right twice a day, but for Cynthia, nothing would be right ever again. Tragically and most unexpectedly one morning Cynthia found her husband Sam, on the floor, unresponsive. Paramedics arrived, but could not save him. He passed away, along with all the aspirations they had shared.

All inside of a single morning, at the age of 32, Cynthia became a young widow. Her happiness and her husband swiftly snuffed out. This candle flame that burned brightly for ten years, suddenly reduced to an ashen wick, could never be lit again. When at 39 years old Sam breathed his last, Cynthia wanted to go with him. They always did everything together.

Out of nowhere, this tempest tore down her house. Initially stunned, soon-turned numb, Cynthia became obsessed with visiting Sam's grave every single day. She always brought her husband's old jacket to sit on beside his grave. Often she'd bring things along with her to try to conjure permanency to all they once had. Their wedding photos, poems Sam wrote, and a few of the possessions left out of their still-packed moving boxes; these might somehow chase away the nothingness she had become. All the sweet times that defined who Cynthia thought she was flooded her heart and floated downstream along with the promises on the front of the colorful cards Sam always left on her pillow. Each night she prayed for him and begged God for Sam to visit in her dreams.

With the warmer weather came more frequent visitors to the cemetery. Often on her morning visits, she would see a woman not much older than herself kneeling quietly at the tombstone behind Sam's. When Cynthia would turn to leave for home, she would always smile and offer her a reassuring nod. It was important to show compassion, as each knew the lonliness and sadness the other felt. Soon a smile and a nod gave way to kind words. So began a kinship albeit one that formed out of the worst of circumstances.

What began as a morning ritual became their mourning's end.

Referring to one another as "Cemetery Friends," their friendship turned- camaraderie grew on solid ground, leading one another to find healing. These days together they continue to visit their husbands' graves but have found a balance between grieving and gathering the courage and strength to move forward. Mostly, they celebrate their unique and beautiful friendship alongside the spouses who brought them together.
Unlikely, yet so fortuitous that they found such solace in helping one another.

Sometimes a silver lining can be found even in death.

And sometimes, we experience a loss akin to death, which lingers and agonizes us from within, for the rest of our lifetime. I speak of abuse, which robs the soul of innocence and joy. I endured abuse from childhood through early adulthood. My very own mother emotionally crushed me. I was a sweet bud, repeatedly stomped on and denied the chance to bloom. While I longed for her love, acceptance, and affection, she pushed me away, always reminding me I was "a mistake she planned to abort."

For many years I grieved the loss of my personhood, self-worth, and sense of belonging. The one who caused my pain was also the one who should have been there to offer me the consolation and support I desperately sought. Her heinous abuse at my expense led to numerous suicide attempts and even time spent at a partial day program at a mental health facility. My hatred for her was insurmountable. I could not find a way to rid myself of the pain and anger she inflicted on me.

Until I met my mourning friend.

While at the mental health facility I met a young woman whose abuse left her inconsolable. She spent much of her time in a fetal position sucking her thumb. I couldn't bear to think of the profound torment that would lead to her obvious pain. I could not stop myself from trying to communicate with her. My soul could no longer ignore what my heart dictated. Finally, I moved close to her and asked if I could offer her a hug. She looked up at me and reached for me with both hands.

Our tender, heartfelt hug was stunning. At that moment, it felt as though our souls were joined as one vessel, finally pouring out years of sadness, anger, and embarrassment at the hands of our abuser. Nothing mattered except the feeling of understanding and compassion. In our deepest pain, we found healing in helping one another. Although we each believed ourselves empty and devoid of any empathy, these offerings flowed freely. In our deep devastation, we discovered an understanding and loyalty few seldom can. We were a brilliant wreckage that formed a firm foundation in spite of and because of our loss.

But our loss became our gain. We proved that there is hope in overcoming the destruction which almost destroyed us. We each found our healing in helping one another heal. This led me to write a memoir Room in the Heart; Surviving a Childhood Undone, Fulfilling a Pact to Love. It is everything I wish I had when I was broken. Inadvertently and most serendipitously I found strength to helping others heal.

Sometimes there is a silver lining inherent in the act of surviving abuse. I found it, and I will gladly share it with you. I am Dana Andrews, and I am not the only face of abuse. I am however proof that healing does happen.