This evening my mom, Skai Varkalis Ahern, died in NYC. She survived infection with COVID19, but she never recovered enough to leave a hospital bed. She died after developing a bacterial infection. 1/

My mom was born in Latvia in 1939. When the German army came through her town, they took my grandfather back with them to Germany, and my grandmother, mother and great grandmother spent the rest of the war looking for him. They finally found him in a prisoner of war camp 2/

for all the Latvian prisoner in post-war Germany. My mother remembered being hungry and homeless during the war for the rest of her life. I didn’t understand why she was so committed to working in the Holy Apostles soup kitchen or why she would bring extra food to give to 3/

homeless people in the subway, until I realized that she always remembered what it was like to be hungry. My mom’s family spent several years after the war in a refugee camp in Germany, until they were sponsored to immigrate to Columbus,
Indiana. She graduated at the top of 4/

her high school class and got a scholarship to go to Indiana University. This is her graduation picture: 5/

In college, she met my dad and after graduation, she started graduate school in English literature, but that was cut short when she had me. She got a Masters degree, they moved to NYC, and when I was three, she had her first ‘nervous breakdown’ and ended up in the hospital 6/

My mom was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and had recurring episodes for the rest of her life. When she was cycling, her worst fears became real. She saw soldiers and monsters in the subway tunnels, and had terrible guilt for imagined wrongs she did to her family. 7/

But despite being hospitalized every few years, my mom held a job in NYC community colleges for more than 40 years, raised a daughter and kept her loved and fed, even after her divorce, and had a long second marriage to Richard Ahern that lasted until his death in 2011. 8/

Her bipolar illness was scary to those who loved her, because when she was depressed, she was literally in hell, and the possibility that she might commit suicide or punish herself in some way was real and recurring. The one thing that always cut through any of that was 9/

her love for her kid. No matter how dissociated she might be, she knew and loved her daughter. For the long stretches between illness, she was an incredible teacher and her students at BMCC loved her for her devotion to them and her confidence they could succeed 10/

She especially loved her older students, most of whom worked one or more jobs during the day, had families, but went to community college at night. Her English courses were usually required for graduation, and she would teach at night in lower Manhattan or the Bronx and tutor 11/

anyone who needed it. She was proud that her students often had the best pass rate on the standard tests they had to take to graduate. After she retired, she continued to go in as a tutor for several years. My mom was opinionated, humble, loving, stubborn, giving and lived 12/

a full and generous life. She loved coffee ice cream and real caramel sauce, and I am glad that the last time I was able to be with her that I could take her out for ice cream. She was an example of how to be completely and unapologetically oneself 13/

and still work hard for others. She wanted her daughter to be self sufficient and independent, and that, along with her love for me, are a big reason I am who I am. Skai, you were a survivor. I love you. 14/14