Two weeks ago today, I lost a dear friend. Roger Moss was my therapist at a pivotal time in my young adulthood, and became one of the most important teachers and beloved mentors of my life. While our clinical relationship came to its natural “closure” when I left L.A. in the late ’90’s, Roger remained a touchstone for me always, up through the last time we visited last summer. He had a way of relating that was, from the very start of knowing him, so familiar, so warm, so intelligent, so full of love. Though I didn’t fully believe he was right until years later, it always made me feel better to hear him say that the only thing wrong with me was that I thought there was something wrong with me.