While living in Phoenix a few years ago I met a man in the local gym named Paul. Paul was a self-proclaimed “gym rat”, 5 years older than I and a total stud. While stretching on the mat after a workout we introduced ourselves and struck up quite the conversation. He shared with me some of his life’s journey, including a very tragic event where he sadly lost one of his three sons to a motor vehicle accident, strangely enough less than ½ mile away from where we had been working out. Somehow his son’s pickup truck edged off the side of the road, struck a telephone pole head-on and exploded in a ball of fire. His son never had a chance. I could feel heartfelt emotion as he told the story. I shared my story, as he had observed for some weeks my awkward movements in the gym and was always curious to know what had happened. After I finished he went on to tell me that one of the things he was most proud of was “overcoming” this terrible tragedy in his life. Notice that he didn’t use the overcame as in past tense, but the ongoing, hard fought journey of continuing to overcome such unimaginable loss. He asked what I was most proud of. I said to that point I hadn’t really thought about it. I said I had to agree that I was with him, that I too was proud of overcoming, not as if it was something I had achieved but rather was achieving, every day, every hour, every moment of every day. Although I don’t see Paul anymore now that I am back in Seattle I will always be grateful for the bonds we formed and for his gentle, watery-eyed reminder that loss like we have both experienced in our lives is an ongoing, day-day to struggle to overcome. Be well my friend.