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http://asbarez.com/110018/in-memoriam-allen-and-sose/
Monday, May 13th, 2013
Allen and Sose at their wedding
BY ARIS HOVASAPIAN
I turned 30 earlier this year. Many people mark that milestone as the
last of their youth, and first of their old age, but to me, it didn't
matter much. I felt the same on my last day at 29 as I did on my first
day at 30. I was at work on my birthday; I had no epiphanies, no
discoveries, no depression, no sense of impending doom. It was just
another day, governed by reason and logic, with no room for silly
superstitions, just like the day before and the day after.
I suppose the most difficult aspect of crossing these types of
milestones is that one gets that much closer to the end. It's
essentially a reminder of one's mortality, and the short time we have
here on this planet. But that never crossed my mind on my birthday.
Logic and reason ruled the day.
I did have one indulgence. I invited some friends to a big dinner for
my birthday: my treat. Everyone I invited was local, except for one
couple. Even though I knew they wouldn't be able to make it, I still
asked Allen Yekikian and Sosé Thomassian to be there. Allen and Sosé
went to Armenia in August to get married, and made the big decision to
repatriate a few months later. They had a going-away party on February
1, and were already in Armenia by the time I sent out invitations.
Sosé sent me a happy birthday message, and I sent her a message asking
if she and Allen would be joining us for dinner, and her reply was to
`Skype us in!' I knew she was joking, but now I wish I had. And I wish
I had gone to their going-away party, where I justified my absence by
the distance I would have had to drive, and because I had been at
their wedding in Armenia. I sent them my regrets back then, and we
mutually agreed that we would see each other when they came back to
visit.
On May 10, Sosé and Allen were driving from Armenia to Georgia, and an
auto accident claimed both their lives. I've spoken to several friends
since finding out about this and it still does not seem real. Even as
I write these words, it is as if I am working on a piece of fiction.
But it is all too real. My friends are gone. And now the realization
sets in that I am mortal, that I have only a short time here, that I
must make the most of it. I've experienced the passing of family
members and family friends, but never of someone that was my friend.
I don't recall if I met Allen or Sosé first, but I knew them both
before they connected with each other. I met both through my
activities in the Armenian Youth Federation (AYF). Sosé was in the
Orange County chapter, while Allen was in the Crescenta Valley
chapter, where I was also a member. Both held various leadership
positions, and also worked on centralized committees and programs.
To say that Allen and I did not get along would be a severe
understatement. Allen never met a point he couldn't argue, nor a short
sentence he couldn't turn into a paragraph. Allen and I had myriad
spirited discussions, both in meetings and outside, ranging from
practical to logistical to theoretical matters. Our arguments would
often annoy other members, who would eventually tune us both out. Our
personality clashes even spilled over into emails; I recently came
across a highly vitriolic exchange between the two of us, and
forwarded it to another friend who had tried to mediate the situation
at the time. I remember thinking that I should send it to Allen as
well, and that he would get a kick out of it now. I wish I had.
Allen and I eventually settled our differences. We were elected to our
chapter's executive, and Allen and I ended up having to ask the third
person to resign. The adversity of having to make that request brought
us closer together. Allen had also disagreed with me on a major issue
in the very beginning of our term, and when it became clear later on
that I was right and he had been wrong, it became the first and only
time that Allen did not argue his cause. We went on to work very well
together for that year, which was a surprise to both of us. We
supported each other and believed in each other without question, and
our work together in a volunteer organization helped us become friends
after that experience.
I was proud to have Allen as a friend and as a member of AYF. I have
never seen anyone work as hard as Allen did, even though he was in a
leadership position. I have never seen anyone as aggressive and as
shameless as Allen was when marketing or promoting something he
believes in. His ability to focus was second to none.
Allen was working at Asbarez during this time, but he moved on to a
non-profit shortly after. About six months into that job, he was
promoted to Chief Technology Officer. He confided in me that he had
doubts about being a manager, mainly because he would have people
working for him that would know more than he would. I responded
angrily because I thought he needed some tough love. I told him he was
whining, and that managers always have staff that know more than they
do, but that a manager must delegate, and multitask, and answer tough
questions, while the workers just do their assigned responsibilities.
At the same time, I was convincd that one day, in the future, Allen
will call me and offer me a job. I was in awe of how motivated he was,
and how driven he was.
Allen eventually grew comfortable in his role, so much so that he sat
on a panel for social media at the ANC Grassroots conference in
November 2011. I'm certain he participated in other conferences and
presentations, but this was about giving back to the community. I was
on the organizing committee for the conference, and when I asked Allen
to present, he didn't hesitate or hedge, he only wanted to know when,
where, and the email address to send his presentation. I only regret
that the conference ran long and he and the panel were forced to
condense their presentations.
I got to know Sosé better after she and Allen started dating. Sosé and
I connected over TV shows, movies, and food. Combining two of those
three, she would constantly tell me that I should watch Top Chef. She
would sing its praises, but they would fall on deaf ears. We did talk
constantly and obsessively about Lost. She was one of the first people
to tell me about The Wire and how amazing it was (she was right about
this one). Oddly enough, Sosé and I also talked a lot about fantasy
football. She had somehow started playing fantasy football with some
coworkers, and kept going for several seasons, so during football
season, the first thing we would ask on a Tuesday morning would be if
the other person won or lost.
Sosé was as dedicated to the community as Allen was, and their friends
and colleagues could see how these two would build on each other's
momentum to move their projects along. Even when they were working on
different committees, both would always support each other completely,
putting in doing as much work as the other person. When either of them
were working on a project, that project's success was never in doubt.
Perhaps their greatest and best project was planning their wedding in
Armenia. The logistics of wedding planning are hard enough when it's
local, but when it's halfway around the world, it becomes
incomprehensible. Sosé would share with amazement her interaction with
flower vendors in Armenia, who would be shocked when asked to plan for
flower arrangements months in advance. But they also coordinated the
travel and lodging for all the friends and family that came out, and
even planned a post-wedding tour of Artsakh with their wedding guests.
When she found out I was having trouble finding an apartment to rent
for my week in Yerevan, Sosé insisted that I stay with them (my guilt
was somewhat relieved by the fact that I was the one who found the
apartment they eventually rented).
Sosé and Allen were both ecstatic about how the wedding turned out. I
don't remember ever seeing either of them that happy. They were happy
to be getting married, and happy that everything went so smoothly and
their project was such a success. They were happiest with each other.
The wedding was in August 2012.
No one was surprised when they announced that they would be moving to
Armenia. The move from Los Angeles (and Orange County, Sosé would
insist on its inclusion) to Yerevan is daunting and seems nearly
impossible. They both left behind their families and careers to start
over in a place that doesn't have nearly the same opportunities. I
was, and still am, envious of their courage to go through with this.
Many Diasporans talk about someday moving back to `our ancestral
homelands,' but Sosé and Allen actually did it. Unfortunately,
unbelievably, in the cruelest twist of fate, their courage and steely
resolve were undone by the fragility of the human body.
I will miss my arguments with Allen. I will miss Sosé's TV and
restaurant recommendations. I will miss going to dinner with them and
discussing politics and Armenia and all the things that are wrong with
the Armenian community. But I will always admire them for their
courage, and for their convictions. They knew what they wanted, and
they never stopped until they had it. They had a dream, and they lived
it. They were my friends, and now they're gone, but they will always
be my heroes.
From: A. Papazian
Monday, May 13th, 2013
Allen and Sose at their wedding
BY ARIS HOVASAPIAN
I turned 30 earlier this year. Many people mark that milestone as the
last of their youth, and first of their old age, but to me, it didn't
matter much. I felt the same on my last day at 29 as I did on my first
day at 30. I was at work on my birthday; I had no epiphanies, no
discoveries, no depression, no sense of impending doom. It was just
another day, governed by reason and logic, with no room for silly
superstitions, just like the day before and the day after.
I suppose the most difficult aspect of crossing these types of
milestones is that one gets that much closer to the end. It's
essentially a reminder of one's mortality, and the short time we have
here on this planet. But that never crossed my mind on my birthday.
Logic and reason ruled the day.
I did have one indulgence. I invited some friends to a big dinner for
my birthday: my treat. Everyone I invited was local, except for one
couple. Even though I knew they wouldn't be able to make it, I still
asked Allen Yekikian and Sosé Thomassian to be there. Allen and Sosé
went to Armenia in August to get married, and made the big decision to
repatriate a few months later. They had a going-away party on February
1, and were already in Armenia by the time I sent out invitations.
Sosé sent me a happy birthday message, and I sent her a message asking
if she and Allen would be joining us for dinner, and her reply was to
`Skype us in!' I knew she was joking, but now I wish I had. And I wish
I had gone to their going-away party, where I justified my absence by
the distance I would have had to drive, and because I had been at
their wedding in Armenia. I sent them my regrets back then, and we
mutually agreed that we would see each other when they came back to
visit.
On May 10, Sosé and Allen were driving from Armenia to Georgia, and an
auto accident claimed both their lives. I've spoken to several friends
since finding out about this and it still does not seem real. Even as
I write these words, it is as if I am working on a piece of fiction.
But it is all too real. My friends are gone. And now the realization
sets in that I am mortal, that I have only a short time here, that I
must make the most of it. I've experienced the passing of family
members and family friends, but never of someone that was my friend.
I don't recall if I met Allen or Sosé first, but I knew them both
before they connected with each other. I met both through my
activities in the Armenian Youth Federation (AYF). Sosé was in the
Orange County chapter, while Allen was in the Crescenta Valley
chapter, where I was also a member. Both held various leadership
positions, and also worked on centralized committees and programs.
To say that Allen and I did not get along would be a severe
understatement. Allen never met a point he couldn't argue, nor a short
sentence he couldn't turn into a paragraph. Allen and I had myriad
spirited discussions, both in meetings and outside, ranging from
practical to logistical to theoretical matters. Our arguments would
often annoy other members, who would eventually tune us both out. Our
personality clashes even spilled over into emails; I recently came
across a highly vitriolic exchange between the two of us, and
forwarded it to another friend who had tried to mediate the situation
at the time. I remember thinking that I should send it to Allen as
well, and that he would get a kick out of it now. I wish I had.
Allen and I eventually settled our differences. We were elected to our
chapter's executive, and Allen and I ended up having to ask the third
person to resign. The adversity of having to make that request brought
us closer together. Allen had also disagreed with me on a major issue
in the very beginning of our term, and when it became clear later on
that I was right and he had been wrong, it became the first and only
time that Allen did not argue his cause. We went on to work very well
together for that year, which was a surprise to both of us. We
supported each other and believed in each other without question, and
our work together in a volunteer organization helped us become friends
after that experience.
I was proud to have Allen as a friend and as a member of AYF. I have
never seen anyone work as hard as Allen did, even though he was in a
leadership position. I have never seen anyone as aggressive and as
shameless as Allen was when marketing or promoting something he
believes in. His ability to focus was second to none.
Allen was working at Asbarez during this time, but he moved on to a
non-profit shortly after. About six months into that job, he was
promoted to Chief Technology Officer. He confided in me that he had
doubts about being a manager, mainly because he would have people
working for him that would know more than he would. I responded
angrily because I thought he needed some tough love. I told him he was
whining, and that managers always have staff that know more than they
do, but that a manager must delegate, and multitask, and answer tough
questions, while the workers just do their assigned responsibilities.
At the same time, I was convincd that one day, in the future, Allen
will call me and offer me a job. I was in awe of how motivated he was,
and how driven he was.
Allen eventually grew comfortable in his role, so much so that he sat
on a panel for social media at the ANC Grassroots conference in
November 2011. I'm certain he participated in other conferences and
presentations, but this was about giving back to the community. I was
on the organizing committee for the conference, and when I asked Allen
to present, he didn't hesitate or hedge, he only wanted to know when,
where, and the email address to send his presentation. I only regret
that the conference ran long and he and the panel were forced to
condense their presentations.
I got to know Sosé better after she and Allen started dating. Sosé and
I connected over TV shows, movies, and food. Combining two of those
three, she would constantly tell me that I should watch Top Chef. She
would sing its praises, but they would fall on deaf ears. We did talk
constantly and obsessively about Lost. She was one of the first people
to tell me about The Wire and how amazing it was (she was right about
this one). Oddly enough, Sosé and I also talked a lot about fantasy
football. She had somehow started playing fantasy football with some
coworkers, and kept going for several seasons, so during football
season, the first thing we would ask on a Tuesday morning would be if
the other person won or lost.
Sosé was as dedicated to the community as Allen was, and their friends
and colleagues could see how these two would build on each other's
momentum to move their projects along. Even when they were working on
different committees, both would always support each other completely,
putting in doing as much work as the other person. When either of them
were working on a project, that project's success was never in doubt.
Perhaps their greatest and best project was planning their wedding in
Armenia. The logistics of wedding planning are hard enough when it's
local, but when it's halfway around the world, it becomes
incomprehensible. Sosé would share with amazement her interaction with
flower vendors in Armenia, who would be shocked when asked to plan for
flower arrangements months in advance. But they also coordinated the
travel and lodging for all the friends and family that came out, and
even planned a post-wedding tour of Artsakh with their wedding guests.
When she found out I was having trouble finding an apartment to rent
for my week in Yerevan, Sosé insisted that I stay with them (my guilt
was somewhat relieved by the fact that I was the one who found the
apartment they eventually rented).
Sosé and Allen were both ecstatic about how the wedding turned out. I
don't remember ever seeing either of them that happy. They were happy
to be getting married, and happy that everything went so smoothly and
their project was such a success. They were happiest with each other.
The wedding was in August 2012.
No one was surprised when they announced that they would be moving to
Armenia. The move from Los Angeles (and Orange County, Sosé would
insist on its inclusion) to Yerevan is daunting and seems nearly
impossible. They both left behind their families and careers to start
over in a place that doesn't have nearly the same opportunities. I
was, and still am, envious of their courage to go through with this.
Many Diasporans talk about someday moving back to `our ancestral
homelands,' but Sosé and Allen actually did it. Unfortunately,
unbelievably, in the cruelest twist of fate, their courage and steely
resolve were undone by the fragility of the human body.
I will miss my arguments with Allen. I will miss Sosé's TV and
restaurant recommendations. I will miss going to dinner with them and
discussing politics and Armenia and all the things that are wrong with
the Armenian community. But I will always admire them for their
courage, and for their convictions. They knew what they wanted, and
they never stopped until they had it. They had a dream, and they lived
it. They were my friends, and now they're gone, but they will always
be my heroes.
From: A. Papazian