 let's talk about scars. Do you have any? Maybe you made a big mistake. Maybe you got in trouble despite best intentions. Perhaps you inherited a mess that made you say never again. You may have struggled with self-confidence, even questioned whether you're good enough. Events beyond your control may have forced you to make a difficult decision, like walking away altogether. Certainly, we've all struggled to some degree, and sometimes we're able to bounce back and to learn and grow, and even make light of our struggles. Sometimes, though, our obstacles are not so easily overcome. Sometimes our setbacks are permanent. Something happened in my life recently for which I was totally unprepared, which caused me to question everything. Let's back up a little. About ten years ago, I got my first programming job in Ruby, and right around the same time, I lost my hair. It wasn't by a choice. I was very lucky to marry, though, an amazing woman who was able to look past my hair issues and my Ruby habits, and I got to write a lot of code for several years, and everything was great. And then my life took a left turn. And until recently, I was unemployed. I'd moved back in with my parents, and I needed counseling. So last year, everything changed. My wife passed away. She was my partner. She was my best friend. It was sudden and unexpected. One moment she was there, and then she was gone. It was devastating. When it happened, the array of emotions I felt was overwhelming. I was heartbroken. I was terrified. I was so distraught I couldn't eat or sleep for days. I was in pain. Grief is not considered an illness, but it felt like one to me. Part of me had gone missing, and it felt like I might never feel joy again. So I withdrew. I left our home. I left the tech world. And for quite a while, I wondered, what am I supposed to do now? I'd lost my way. Before I was motivated, I had plans. I was going to get better at programming. I was going to get better as a leader, as a mentor. My wife and I were planning to start a family. And though she had been dealing with chronic illness since she was a child, we had a plan to get her healthy. But things don't always go according to plan. A lot has happened since then. I'm still heartbroken. I still miss my wife. But I've been learning how to live with my grief. I got help. I came back to work. I'm here speaking to you today. And I've embraced some ideas that helped me be functional again. Things I hope may be helpful to you should you find yourself in a tough situation. Be compassionate with yourself. The day after my wife passed away, I walked outside. I collapsed on the ground. And I cried. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I felt like it was my fault. I was guilty and ashamed. I felt I'd failed as a husband. Blaming myself and feeling regret, these are ingredients for a downward spiral. And I needed a change in perspective. My friends and family helped me realize there was no way I could have known she was in danger at the time. Her doctors didn't see it. How could I? I needed to have an honest conversation with myself and let go of my guilt. In our darkest moments, there can be a vast disconnect between what we feel and what is true. It can be extremely difficult to acknowledge we're only human, but it's incredibly important that we do. You are stronger than you think. At my lowest point, I was consumed by fear and self-doubt. I wasn't sure I'd be able to face my fears without my partner. But I've been inspired by some amazing people, people in tech, in fact, who've taught me it's not what happens to us but how we respond that matters. Cheryl Sandberg, the COO of Facebook, lost her husband to cardiac arrhythmia while the family was on vacation a few years ago. And she struggled through an intense period of grief she didn't think she'd ever recover from. And then she found encouragement from a friend who told her, option A is not available, so let's kick the shit out of option B. In time, she discovered resilience is something we can learn when we can choose to find joy again when we get lost. And she's gone on to write a book about her journey. It's called Option B. Keebie McKinn is not only an accomplished engineer at GitHub and a public speaker, but she's also an amazing triathlete. During a difficult period in her life she threw herself into the sport and it became a source of solace. In fact, she's trained for and competed in Ironman events all over the world and the sport is part of her identity. But recently, while on a training ride, she was hit by a car. The accident left her in a cast for months. She had to relearn how to walk and she may never regain her ability to train and compete. But she is fighting to reinvent herself again. She gave a recent talk, how to mend a broken identity and it taught me sometimes courage simply means keep going. Jennifer Saltstein was not one to complain and you'd be forgiven if you found this surprising. Her kidneys failed in her early teens. She had multiple transplants. She survived septic shock. She endured numerous surgeries and chemotherapy. She literally had more scars than anyone I've ever met. And though she had earned the right to complain, she never did. Instead, she projected love and kindness. She made everyone around her feel special and she could do this because she had mastered empathy, something we've heard about quite a bit today. I believe her emotional intelligence was more highly evolved. In fact, she was so amazing that I asked her to marry me. And I'm very grateful she said yes. And though our time together seems all too short, the impact she's had on my life is permanent and part of her lives on. See, through the miracle of surrogacy, our son was born three months after Jen's passing. And now I'm learning to be a father. I never imagined doing this without her, but with all she's taught me, I'm finding the strength to do so. Our boy deserves to know his mom and I'm doing my best to show him. By the way, we wanted to take this elephant home with us, but he didn't fit in the trunk. Have patience. It's remarkable how we managed to find our way in time. So I've returned to the tech world, but now I have a different set of priorities and a newfound perspective. But reaching this point didn't happen overnight. So Jen had kept one of her favorite quotes on the refrigerator as a magnet for years and I'd never paid much attention to it. Some time after she passed away, though, I read the quote again, as if for the first time, it's from the poet, Rilke, although it may as well have been Jen speaking to me. Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves as if they were unlocked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers which could not be given to you now because you would not be able to live with them. The point is, live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday, far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Things may not always go according to plan. Your projects may falter. You may be hurt by events beyond your control. You may end up with scars. Don't let that stop you. When the time comes, remember, be kind to yourself. You are stronger than you think and for everything unresolved in your heart, live the questions. Thank you.