I went to a funeral for a colleague, a project manager named Steve, this morning. What seems like a lifetime ago, he hired me as an assistant project manager. Within weeks, a new CIO swept in and promoted me out from under Steve before tripling the size of our team. I got to spend most of the next few years shaping the project management office’s practices and tools, and then graduated to a role in development and IT strategy. But Steve and I continued to work together for eight years.

Steve always wanted to mentor me more than I was interested in being mentored, but I never complained; I didn’t tell him, but that job was a lifeline, as I was drowning at my previous employer. And it ended up being the most consequential gig in my entire career.

He told me earlier this year that one of his proudest accomplishments was bringing me to the company. I told him he must not have achieved much, then. We laughed. But I wonder now if he knew. If he was saying goodbye. A few weeks later, he left for a trip to Greece. He made it back to the States but never returned to work.

Thanks, Steve. Happy travels, my friend.