I’ve been in this field for years, and I’ve been lucky enough to work with some incredibly talented professionals.
Some became friends. Some became mentors. Some were just brief but meaningful moments in my professional life.
This week I got the news that our team lead is leaving the company.
It’s one of those announcements that leaves you a bit shell-shocked. He was the Head of Data, the person who built the team from the ground up and pushed the company to become truly data-centric. His fingerprints are everywhere.
I joined the team six months ago as a frontend developer. On paper, we sit at opposite ends of the spectrum. I work mostly on UI, on what users see and interact with. A data engineer operates well beyond the backend, in layers that are often invisible to most of the company.
And yet, I feel a hole that will take time to fill.
Six months isn’t a long time. We weren’t working side by side every day, and often we were tackling very different parts of the same problems. Still, the impact he had on me was significant. From the very first interview, I felt trusted. Over time, that trust turned into a continuous exchange of advice, perspective, and quiet guidance.
Through those interactions, I gained clarity. On how the company works. On what was expected of me. On what the best version of myself in this role could look like.
I feel incredibly privileged to work with people like this. Even more so when I think about how different our backgrounds are. Different cultures, different career paths, different ways of thinking and solving problems. Work stops feeling like a mindless grind through tickets and becomes something richer. Every conversation adds context. Every interaction leaves something behind.
That’s not something I’ll ever take for granted.
My team is deeply diverse. Backend and frontend developers, designers, product managers, data analysts, data engineers. People spread across the world, all arriving here through wildly different journeys. Just being in the same room—virtual or otherwise—means absorbing a level of knowledge that would have taken me years to accumulate on my own.
Yes, I lost a mentor in the short term. And yes, that hurts.
But the legacy remains.
What I’ve been taught isn’t just technical knowledge or company-specific context. It’s a mindset of continuous growth that goes far beyond slogans. A way of looking at problems, people, and myself. That stays with you.
I’m still in the right place to keep growing. To find different kinds of mentorship. To learn every single day, sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident.
I value this more than any promotion or salary increase.
Those things are nice. They boost the ego, they validate effort. But they don’t fill me. Learning does. Discovering parts of my potential I didn’t know existed does. That’s the real reward. The mission is growth. The vision is becoming the best version of myself I can realistically be.
Mentorship doesn’t have to be formal. It doesn’t need a title or a scheduled program. I’m sure you already have people around you who can teach you a lot. Ask for a chat. Pay attention to how they think. Reflect on your interactions. Come back with follow-ups, with actions, with changes you’re willing to make.
Don’t wait for the meeting that’s going to change your life. Treat every interaction as a chance to grow.
I’m sad, that’s true. But I also know that I’ll meet other incredible professionals along the way. His role will be filled. New voices will emerge. New connections will form.
We might live far apart, but the connection remains, stronger than I ever expected, especially given the short time and the clear hierarchy that separated us.
That’s the quiet power of good mentorship.