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October 2014

On October 3rd, I found out my friend Mike Burton had stage IV lung cancer that he had been battling since 2011. We weren't close and I didn't know him well, but he was my Big in the Iktinos Chapter of APX and was nice, outgoing, funny, and very talented and creative, so he was the best Big I could've had.

Strangely enough, I found out through Zoe Keating, one of my favorite musicians. I don't often check my Facebook feed, but I was on her page that day and happened to come across a post ( www.facebook.com/zoekeating/po…10152723075224929) where she shared a funding project to support Mike and his girlfriend Emily, who was helping to take care of him.

...It was a very surreal way to find out about something of such magnitude. To say I was terribly, terribly sad is a huge understatement. I felt sorrow for Mike who was suffering, devastating empathy for his girlfriend even though I've never met her, and a heavy weight of guilt and regret for not having a clue these past three years. I think he and I would've been better friends, or I would at least have been a better Little, if I hadn't been so shy about getting to know new people.

Anyway, I wanted to say something to him, or his girlfriend, or both, or at least send him something, or her, or both. But it’s always difficult to know what’s the best thing to say or do, and I didn’t want to mess it up. So I spent the following Saturday contemplating and considering, and on Sunday morning, I decided I would get him and Emily each a pair of “happy socks.”

The backstory to this is that I wore many, many colorful and “out there” socks – like big knee-high and thigh-high socks and stockings, not dinky ones you hide in your shoes – when we were attending college together. (I still do, but not as much as back then.) And because he and I exchanged happy socks in a Big-Little-present-giving-thing, and because I thought a more cheery present might be better than a sympathetic card, I thought this might be appropriate.

But I suppose I’ll never know, because I decided this on that Sunday morning, and that afternoon I decided where to search for these happy socks, with plans that I could purchase and mail them on the following Monday. But on Monday I found out that Mike had died on Sunday, October 5th in the afternoon.

…I think I failed miserably on a number of levels, but these days I’m trying very hard not to do counterproductive things, like dwelling on my failures. So instead, I thought I would be productive and make something that’s inspired by Mike’s story that could hopefully serve as an inspiration to those who are feeling pain from the loss, or those who know or will ever know the pain that comes with such loss. Because, although it is at first overwhelmingly painful, and though at first you think you’ll never know happiness again, life has a curious balance, and for each loss there is something to be gained, though it is very difficult to see in the first few moments, days, or even years. And because I sometimes forget this, I thought I would make this piece to remind myself, and because I hope it will help others, I thought I would share it.

So, please visit Emily’s blog (http:// ros1positive.wordpress.com/) documenting this arduous struggle, something I can’t even fathom having the strength to do. I may have felt sad, but I think this is not even a fraction compared to hers and the innumerable others who are close to her and Mike. Please send them your well wishes (even if just telepathically, as I am, because I’m still partly a shy person and don’t know how well people would take to having strangers pop out of the blue with prayers for them) and keep them in your thoughts. I’m not sure if her funding project is still running, but here is a link to it ( www.gofundme.com/burtonfightscancer) just in case; I think the funds will now go to Mike’s funeral and a trip for Emily to scatter his ashes at his favorite worldly places.

In closing to Mike Burton: thank you for happy socks, my funky laser-cut paddle, CNC-ed dinosaurs, the only Jagerbomb in my life (because…well, anyone who knows me with coffee will understand this), an entire “soccer team,” InDesign tutorials, and basically for being an awesome Big. I wish I’d been a better Little and would have talked with you more, but I think it’s more productive to take this inspiration you’ve left in parting and do something with it. You help to remind me that life is not always beautiful – sometimes it’s just stark and ugly – but it always has a way of being wonderful. So I hope you’ll enjoy this piece.

--
website | tumblr | etsy | redbubble | society6 | facebook | behance | instagram
all gallery content © sophia a zhou with respective attributions as proper.

This image is not granted to the public domain, and is protected under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License .
Licenses for commercial and derivative use of this image may be available for purchase. Please contact me if interested.
Under the Creative Commons license, this piece may be displayed on other websites as long as:
- Credit is given to Sophia A Zhou, in writing
- A link is provided linking back to the original piece
- All other conditions under the Creative Commons License are met
Any use of this piece other than as authorized under this Creative Commons License or Copyright Law is prohibited.

Description
October 2014

On October 3rd, I found out my friend Mike Burton had stage IV lung cancer that he had been battling since 2011. We weren't close and I didn't know him well, but he was my Big in the Iktinos Chapter of APX and was nice, outgoing, funny, and very talented and creative, so he was the best Big I could've had.

Strangely enough, I found out through Zoe Keating, one of my favorite musicians. I don't often check my Facebook feed, but I was on her page that day and happened to come across a post ( www.facebook.com/zoekeating/po…10152723075224929) where she shared a funding project to support Mike and his girlfriend Emily, who was helping to take care of him.

...It was a very surreal way to find out about something of such magnitude. To say I was terribly, terribly sad is a huge understatement. I felt sorrow for Mike who was suffering, devastating empathy for his girlfriend even though I've never met her, and a heavy weight of guilt and regret for not having a clue these past three years. I think he and I would've been better friends, or I would at least have been a better Little, if I hadn't been so shy about getting to know new people.

Anyway, I wanted to say something to him, or his girlfriend, or both, or at least send him something, or her, or both. But it’s always difficult to know what’s the best thing to say or do, and I didn’t want to mess it up. So I spent the following Saturday contemplating and considering, and on Sunday morning, I decided I would get him and Emily each a pair of “happy socks.”

The backstory to this is that I wore many, many colorful and “out there” socks – like big knee-high and thigh-high socks and stockings, not dinky ones you hide in your shoes – when we were attending college together. (I still do, but not as much as back then.) And because he and I exchanged happy socks in a Big-Little-present-giving-thing, and because I thought a more cheery present might be better than a sympathetic card, I thought this might be appropriate.

But I suppose I’ll never know, because I decided this on that Sunday morning, and that afternoon I decided where to search for these happy socks, with plans that I could purchase and mail them on the following Monday. But on Monday I found out that Mike had died on Sunday, October 5th in the afternoon.

…I think I failed miserably on a number of levels, but these days I’m trying very hard not to do counterproductive things, like dwelling on my failures. So instead, I thought I would be productive and make something that’s inspired by Mike’s story that could hopefully serve as an inspiration to those who are feeling pain from the loss, or those who know or will ever know the pain that comes with such loss. Because, although it is at first overwhelmingly painful, and though at first you think you’ll never know happiness again, life has a curious balance, and for each loss there is something to be gained, though it is very difficult to see in the first few moments, days, or even years. And because I sometimes forget this, I thought I would make this piece to remind myself, and because I hope it will help others, I thought I would share it.

So, please visit Emily’s blog (http:// ros1positive.wordpress.com/) documenting this arduous struggle, something I can’t even fathom having the strength to do. I may have felt sad, but I think this is not even a fraction compared to hers and the innumerable others who are close to her and Mike. Please send them your well wishes (even if just telepathically, as I am, because I’m still partly a shy person and don’t know how well people would take to having strangers pop out of the blue with prayers for them) and keep them in your thoughts. I’m not sure if her funding project is still running, but here is a link to it ( www.gofundme.com/burtonfightscancer) just in case; I think the funds will now go to Mike’s funeral and a trip for Emily to scatter his ashes at his favorite worldly places.

In closing to Mike Burton: thank you for happy socks, my funky laser-cut paddle, CNC-ed dinosaurs, the only Jagerbomb in my life (because…well, anyone who knows me with coffee will understand this), an entire “soccer team,” InDesign tutorials, and basically for being an awesome Big. I wish I’d been a better Little and would have talked with you more, but I think it’s more productive to take this inspiration you’ve left in parting and do something with it. You help to remind me that life is not always beautiful – sometimes it’s just stark and ugly – but it always has a way of being wonderful. So I hope you’ll enjoy this piece.

--
website | tumblr | etsy | redbubble | society6 | facebook | behance | instagram
all gallery content © sophia a zhou with respective attributions as proper.

This image is not granted to the public domain, and is protected under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License .
Licenses for commercial and derivative use of this image may be available for purchase. Please contact me if interested.
Under the Creative Commons license, this piece may be displayed on other websites as long as:
- Credit is given to Sophia A Zhou, in writing
- A link is provided linking back to the original piece
- All other conditions under the Creative Commons License are met
Any use of this piece other than as authorized under this Creative Commons License or Copyright Law is prohibited.