Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of the death of Mike Kruzeniski. He’s been on my mind a lot in the past couple of months, not only because of this anniversary.

I got to know Mike when he became my boss. He was hired as the very first VP of Design and Research at Included Health. I was a bit nervous during my first few meetings with him, balancing making him feel welcome in his mid-pandemic start, showing the value of my research team, and helping him get acclimated to the new company. He quickly won me and the rest of our design and research teams over.

Mike cared deeply about the craft of design. He wanted design to be beautiful and powerful. He bonded quickly with the designers and encouraged them to uplevel their skills. He gave them space to be creative and to push the boundaries. He didn’t hesitate to roll up his sleeves and get into the details. The design team flourished under him.

I have to admit that Mike’s care for the craft of design gave me pause when he started. I’ve worked for multiple design leaders who pushed designers to greater heights of creativity, and in doing so relegated user research to doing nothing more than validation research to prove how creative the design team was. Not Mike: his support for user research was boundless. He knew when and how to use research. He understood the value of generative research. He knew how to talk about its value to the executive team. He never talked about the design team, but rather the design and research team. My research team loved him just as much as the design team did.

One of Mike’s top strengths as a leader was that he believed in his team. He didn’t second-guess. He asked coaching questions if he thought that something hadn’t been considered. He always made it clear that not only did he trust his team, but he was also all-in on their success. I was the beneficiary of the opportunities that he created for me to grow my skills. At first, I didn’t even realize that it’s what was happening, but quickly came to see the pattern in as I observed him do it for me and for many others across the design and research team.

In addition to his innate belief in his team, Mike was vocal in sharing that belief. If I ever admitted that I was anything less than completely confident that I was going to be successful in something, he was there to cheer and to support. One of Mike’s friends called him the antidote to impostor syndrome, a description that I must agree with. He gave ongoing feedback and advice while reminding me that he believed in me and had no doubts that I could do it.

Although I didn’t get nearly as much time with Mike as I was hoping to, I still learned so much from him. His leadership style has informed a lot of who I am as a leader today. When I was first offered the promotion to VP of Experience Design at Babylon Health a couple of months ago, I immediately wished that I could call him and get his thoughts on making that transition.

I wish I could call him and thank him for everything. I’ll have to try to do him proud instead.