Thank you for writing this and for sharing your story in that video. I watched it carefully because the personal side was painfully relatable. Cancer and terminal illness took both of my parents within five years. My mother was diagnosed one month after my son was born. She had stayed with us during his first month, helping two new parents navigate a fragile situation. Then her own fight began. For two years, I watched her wither away until she was almost unrecognizable. My father mentally died the day we lost her, although he remained here physically for another four years. His final decline happened frighteningly fast. He appeared physically healthy, and then within three months, he was gone. That was this past January. He was supposed to move to Miami with me. He never made it. His physical decline was terrifying, but watching him disappear mentally after losing my mother was worse. When they were both gone, so was I for a while. The idea of losing both parents and being the only parent for a child makes you think all sorts of shit in the event something happens to you. I was still relatively new to trading. I had not lived through enough market cycles to understand what grief could do to my decision-making. I went on what felt like a permanent mission to destroy everything I had built. Luckily, and honestly to my surprise, almost all of what I do as a trader could be coded. If grief could no longer be trusted with discretion, I would build guardrails it couldn’t override. Once I made it through the panic attacks and depression, I pulled Operation Hail Mary. Back against the wall. Come back stronger. Automate what emotion could destroy. Make sure that no matter what loss came next, what was taken from me, or who left, nothing would ever break me that way again. My father came to America from Greece in 1968 with a suitcase filled mostly with underwear and a winter jacket that was stolen within his first week. My mother followed two years later. He started as a dishwasher. Then he became a busboy. Then a waiter. Eventually, he bought the business and the building. The real American Dream. We were never rich, but we never went without. Then, in 2010, an arsonist set the building on fire. Five people lost their lives. In one night, nearly everything my parents had spent 40 years building was destroyed. That was when I stepped in, bought John’s Deli, and took responsibility for caring for them. So when you talk about watching the people closest to you deteriorate in real time, regretting the time you could never get back, and realizing that money is only a vehicle for freedom, I understand. Why are we talking about this in a trading post? Because people see traders holding $1 million, $2 million, or $3 million payout records and have no idea what the road there looked like. They see the payout. They don’t see the funerals, panic attacks, depression, responsibility, sacrifice, or the days spent trying not to destroy everything you built. I have never fought harder for anything in my life except my son. The payout was never the final destination. It was supposed to buy back time, protect my family, and make sure the sacrifices of the people who came before me meant something. I would trade every dollar for one more day with them too. Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for sharing the part people usually hide. I hope my parents are proud. I know yours are too. Now that we’ve gotten the heavy stuff off our chests, and our stories seem to have touched a hell of a lot of people tonight, let’s get back to the program and do what we do best. Thank you. Truly.