Greg Caws
Gone too soon.
I wasn’t at all ready for the news. On Friday, a friend texted me to share that Greg Caws, former CEO of BC Innovation Council (now Innovate BC), had unexpectedly passed away.
It had already been a terrible week for me for a variety of reasons. After reading the message, I stepped away from my desk, laid down on my bed, and buried my head in my arms.
My wife happened to be walking past our bedroom. She peered in and asked, “What are you doing?” I briefly lifted my head and told her what I’d just heard. Then I rested my head back in my arms, and the tears came.
Learning that someone you know has passed is never easy. The news about Greg was particularly shocking—he seemed so young, so healthy. Even as I write this, it feels unreal.
Greg’s passing is especially heartbreaking because, as a friend recently put it, he was “unique goodness.” That sentiment resonates deeply with me. Greg embodied this trait in so many ways.
He treated everyone with respect. I vividly remember the first time I met Greg. Karen Speirs, BCIC’s former communications director, was giving me a tour of their office when we bumped into him. He greeted me with a strong handshake, and we chatted briefly. At that time, I was a nobody in the BC tech ecosystem, yet he treated me as though I were someone important. I’ve never forgotten that moment.
He was humble. One of my favourite memories from my time with BCIC was my regular conversations with Greg. Despite being the CEO, he didn’t occupy a fancy corner office. Instead, he worked at a standing desk in the main office area alongside the staff. He never acted as if he were above anyone—he was there to guide, support, and then get out of the way. Greg was more captain than king.
He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Greg was what I’d call a “player-coach.” On a micro level, he didn’t hesitate to dive into the nitty-gritty—he even seemed to enjoy tasks like setting up IT equipment. On a macro level, he believed government had a critical role in fostering innovation across the province. He understood that BCIC had to push boundaries, even in tough situations. “We are the sharp end of the stick,” he once said, recognizing that we were tasked with some of the hardest but most essential work.
He was an inspiration. The friends I’ve made in the past few years won’t believe this, but there was a time when I’d run 10-12km over lunch hour! That habit started because Greg would come back from runs and casually say, “Just did a 10k.” That was all the motivation I needed. Thinking back to those days reminds me how much of a positive influence Greg had on me—and surely on many others. He also didn’t really drink coffee and was probably the first person I ever heard order a non-alcoholic beer. That simple choice showed me you could live differently from everyone else, and that could be a great thing.
Greg was empowering, forward-thinking, endlessly supportive. He was a family man, an impeccable role model, an extraordinary human.
I miss him.