Family, friends recall 'Big Liza Energy' at celebration of life for 21-year-old Asheville woman
Liza Burke died six weeks after falling ill while on spring break in Mexico
This story sponsored by Citizens Fuel Co., a family-owned Asheville company.
Dozens of family members and friends gathered at Taylor Ranch on Saturday to celebrate the life of Liza Burke, a daughter, friend and sister they described as a spirit that dazzled those around her. The University of Georgia senior, who grew up in Asheville, died in April after a six-week battle with a previously undiagnosed brain tumor. She was 21.
It was a sudden, sorrowful ending for a family that had already endured a devastating loss. Liza’s older sister, Edie, died in 2008 after living with a rare disease known as Hurler’s Syndrome/MPS 1. She died just a few months shy of her 10th birthday. Edie was beloved by her family and community. Liza saw that and grew up with a fierce and caring love for Edie that shaped her later live-life-to-the-fullest attitude, friends and family members said.
“She cherished her siblings, Jack and Edie,” Liza’s mother, Laura McKeithen, wrote for her obituary. “As her older sister’s abilities declined from the effects of MPS 1, Liza proudly assumed the role of little ‘big sister’ until Edie’s death when Liza was only six. Liza was the youngest of ten children born in her neighborhood in one calendar year and, although she was the smallest, she was the fiercest and the undisputed leader of the pack,” she wrote.
That “big Liza energy,” as Laura liked to call it, came to define her life. “Liza lived large, like every day could be her last,” Laura wrote. Here’s more:
She was not only at ease in nature, she was intrepid—whether watching sunsets from a mountain top tent, swimming solo across any body of water, or surfing in Central America. As Liza matured, she accomplished more in 21 years than many people do in a lifetime. She spoke two languages, played guitar, traveled the world, went skydiving, hiked across a glacier, joyfully sang and danced — always without fear of judgement.
Mallory Silver, Liza’s field hockey coach at Asheville High School, recalled Liza as a carefree person - she wore oven mitts as socks one time at a campfire gathering - who also knew herself and her purpose. Her teammates called her “social-Liza,” Silver said, adding that “she was authentic, confident and brought out the best” in those around her.
If you want to “live like Liza,” Silver added, you leave your heart on the field, then crank karaoke on the bus ride home.
Mary Schilling, one of Liza’s best friends, described Liza as that rare person who could balance fierce protection with tenderness. She exuded a joyful spirit with a laid back, shit-happens kind of attitude. She was a sit-together-in silence, laugh-for-hours, talk-about-everything friend, Schilling said. A spontaneous-day-trip-no-matter-the-season-weather-or-time-of-day friend. (Those trips were often taken in Liza’s beloved 1992 Jeep Cherokee.) A lead-from-the-front-and-know-when-to-hold-your-hand friend. She nurtured kittens. She loved her dog Ziggy.
During the formal part of the summery afternoon ceremony, Laura kept her remarks short, preferring the one-on-one interactions of countless tear-filled hugs and loving exchanges. She used her time to read a letter that 17-year-old Liza had written to her future self as part of an assignment during her senior year at Asheville High School. (See the letter below.)
But Laura wrote poignantly of her grief and loss in an online journal. She describes the jolting pain of unexpected memories flooding back while sorting through her daughter’s letters, pictures, drawings and beloved stuffed animals from childhood. She writes of delivering a Big Liza Energy trophy to her sorority sisters at Kappa Delta to use as motivation for kindness, encouragement and authenticity during the sorority’s recruitment season.
And she wrote of how music so often triggers her sorrow. “Liza’s friends created a playlist of her favorite music that I listened to repeatedly in the hospital. I can’t help but cry, because when a song plays on the radio, I’m reminded of the hope for Liza’s recovery that I had during those weeks …. the hope that suddenly changed to nope.”
Laura and several family members attended the University of Georgia’s commencement last month at Sanford Stadium. Beforehand, university President Jere Morehead conveyed Liza’s diploma, with majors in management and international business. During the graduation ceremony, Morehead called for a moment of silence.
“The stadium was completely still and quiet,” Laura wrote in an online diary entry, “Then he announced that Liza’s family and friends were in the audience. The students and so many in attendance stood and looked our way and clapped. I was focused on the back of the field waving and fist-pumping to Liza’s friends who were there to celebrate as Liza would’ve wanted. It was awesome.”
Liza’s letter to herself, written when she was a senior in high school
You’re about to start your last week of high school, and it totally hasn’t hit you yet. This year, you’ve learned a lot. Field hockey was your first love, and then you met that guy. Are you over him? Please tell him you are. Did you meet a good guy at UGA? You are so deserving. Did you love UGA? Did you study abroad? I hope you’ve gotten to see more of the world the last four years. It’s all you’ve really wanted to do.
How is Jack? Is Ziggy still around? Tito? Rosie? Are you still friends with anyone from Asheville? Meg? Claire? Mary? Ava? Do you ever see your old Christ School friends? They make you laugh the most. Are you kind? You were a total bitch last year, but this year you’ve been cool with most everyone, and you’re really proud of yourself for turning that around.
Do you ever go visit Edie when you’re home? I hope so. I hope that you’re happy with where you are in life, and if you aren’t, it’s OK. Be humble and kind real-world Liza. Keep not taking shit, and fight for what you believe in. Be good. Tell your fam you love them, and don’t ever forget to fall in love with yourself.
Love, 17-year-old Liza.
The family has asked folks to consider a donation to the Liza and Edie Burke Education Fund at The Foundation for the Carolinas. The fund was set up to honor both sisters and the genuine, dynamic, playful and fierce way they gave back to the world. Gifts to the fund support educational opportunities for young people at the University of Georgia and beyond.
Here’s to carrying that Big Liza Energy forward in all we do.
-j
Thank so much, Lesley. I'm so happy to hear that the story touched you. I miss you guys. Love!
Thank you for covering this, Jason. Maggie is visiting us in Ecuador and couldn't be at the memorial, so we took some roses to a point high on a mountain overlooking the city and spread the petals in her memory. It means a lot to read the tributes, and we broke down reading Liza's letter to herself. She was a special person and will not soon be forgotten.