Helen Sooklaris Obituary

Helen Sooklaris Of Burlingame, CA, born June 22, 1924, died at 9:10 AM on Oct. 10, 2010 (10/10/10) at the age of 86. She is survived by her three loving children: Marie and her husband, Nat Friedland; Anthony Jr. and his son, James; and John and his wife, Artemisia, and their two children, Andoni and Maria who currently reside in San Diego. Also surviving is her loving sister, Harriette Sherana Frances of Larkspur, Ca. along with many cousins, nieces and nephews, koumbari, and godchildren. She was predeceased by her husband of 59 years, Anthony Sooklaris. Helen was born and raised in San Francisco, CA. She was an accomplished violinist in her youth. In 1947 she married Anthony (Tony) Sooklaris, the love of her life. She was a devoted wife, helping Tony run their family grocery store and later, their artist canvas business. She worked well into the 1990's when she finally retired. Proud of her Cretan heritage, she was a dedicated and hardworking member of the Ariadne Chapter of the Pancretan Association of America, and served as its president and treasurer for over 30 years. Helen was known as the best Cretan "pilafi" maker in San Francisco, feeding literally thousands of people at San Francisco's Greek Food Festival and also at Cretan dinners and picnics. The Trisagion prayer service will be held on Thursday, October 14, 2010 at 7 p.m., and the funeral service at 11 AM Friday, October 15, both at the Annunciation Cathedral. Interment will follow at the Greek Orthodox Memorial Park, Colma. In lieu of flowers, donations in her memory may be made to the Annunciation Cathedral Building Fund, 245 Valencia Street, San Francisco, CA 94103 (www.annunciation.org). Directed by Adam Bousiakis of Whitted Williams Funeral Home, License FD837.

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Published by San Francisco Chronicle on Oct. 12, 2010.

Memories and Condolences
for Helen Sooklaris

4 Entries

Patricia Jackson

October 24, 2010

My sympathies to your entire family. Though I haven't seen Helen since I was at Lawton School with Marie, seeing the picture here brought back memories. And, Marie, I'm so sorry to hear of your medical ills. May you come to a full recovery soon.

Linda Marie Pillay

October 16, 2010

I met Mrs Sooklaris a number of times over the years and admired her grace. I pray her family will be able to get through this difficult time and know she is no longer in pain and with a loving God.

Yiayia, Andoni, and Maria

John Sooklaris

October 15, 2010

Homily delivered by John Sooklaris at the Trisagion Service for Helen Sooklaris.

Today we reflect on the life of Helen Sooklaris. She lived 86 years, married 59 of them to Anthony, the love of her life. How can you summarize, in an elevator speech, a person’s whole life? I won’t even try tonight, but I will share with you some thoughts and memories and reflections about my mom to give you a sense of the kind of person that she was.

Generous, devoted, loving, trustworthy, religious, hospitable, reliable, happy, smart, , considerate … are among the adjectives that could describe my mother’s life.

Her family will miss her very much; that goes without saying, but I said it anyway. My brother Tony had a very special bond with his mother and has always thought the world of her. During her hospital stay, he used up tons of his vacation time to provide her with emotional and moral. He has a huge heart, and a huge soft spot for his mom, and I know that it crushes him to lose her, when we were all so hopeful of a meaningful recovery.

Marie, who faces medical challenges of her own, is unfortunately laying in a hospital bed for 3.5 months now, and regards herself as having “cheated death”. Seeing it first hand, I cannot disagree. She too misses her mother terribly and must face the painful fact that she simply was not able to come visit her mother in the hospital, as she herself was in the hospital, some of that time right down the hall in the ICU. I ask that Marie reflect within her heart to discover that her mother loves her unconditionally, and there is no reason why anything she did or didn’t do could ever rattle that resolve. Just ask any mother how she feels about her child.

Harriette, has enjoyed her sister for 85 years. They were especially close during their childhood. Of course marriage, families and life’s endeavors have a way of creating separation and distance, even for two very tight and loving sisters. But when my dad died, four years ago, my aunt Harriette became a “rock,” as we like to call it, for Helen. She was a regular weekly visitor and spent the entire day helping her sister with her chores, providing emotional support, and engaged in sibling dialog. That weekly visit had cultivated an unshakable and loving sisterly bond for these two soul-mate sisters.

If you know my Thea Harriette at all, her passion for art, writing, community, and Marin style life filled her days with a very busy schedule. She put her whole life aside to be at her sister’s side almost every single day of Helen’s 4.5 month hospital stay. I cannot adequately describe the joy that my mother felt to have her sister there when she woke up from a nap or needed her pillow adjusted, or just needed someone to write to, because she could not speak. My mother’s needs were great, and Harriette was there more than anyone to shoulder the load in a selfless love that not only makes me proud of her, but eternally grateful and indebted to her for her sacrifice. Thank you Thea for your unrelenting love and devotion to your sister. I know that went both ways.

Of course, her grandkids, James, Maria, and Andoni will also miss their Yiayia. She always was there for them for their graduations or special events or award ceremonies, sporting events, or whatever the kids were up to. Both Yiayia and Papou were very proud of their grandkids and relished watching them graduate from elementary and middle school, and had hoped to see graduations from high school and college, and maybe even marriage. Yiayia wanted very much to be a part of all of that. Helen thought that the single most important purpose for living was to raise a family. She is fortunate to have three very bright young grandkids who get the chances in life that she did not. If I may speak for Yiayia, “Make the most out of your education, and the time that you spend with your family. You only have one family, and one life. Live it to the fullest! Don’t waste one precious second.”

And, of course, I will miss that voice over the phone. After leaving work every day, the first thing I would do is call my mom. She was my confidant and my parental conscience. We talked about all kinds of things, but she especially liked to talk about her grandkids or any Greek events that were happening.

Growing up in the 1960s, I remember watching the TV news and they would report, “another fatal accident on Deadly Doyle Drive”. During our conversation she would ask where I was at that particular moment. Coincidentally, most of the time I would reply, that I was on Deadly Doyle Drive. It unnerved her to no end because she was such a worry wart. She didn’t want me dying on that road, especially talking on the phone with her. Sometimes she wouldn’t believe me when I really was on Deadly Doyle Drive. And when I wasn’t, I was then either approaching or had just passed Deadly Doyle Drive. Putting her fears directly front and center made her laugh a little, calm her nerves, and sent chills up her spine all at the same time. Mom, thank you for always being there for all your children.

Helen was an accomplished violinist. She expected that at some point in her life, she would play in a “ham orchestra”, as she put it. But marriage, kids, and life rearranged that dream. Both my parents were great partners for one another. When my mom had to cook the pilafi at the picnic, my dad would set-up the outdoor burners for her. He even had hand-crafted a large wooden koutala so she could stir that big pot of rice.

When Tony Sooklaris and Tony Koron were in the grocery business, she worked the checkout lanes. When Tony ran the canvas business, she did the books, talked to customers, arranged for trucking, did the payroll, called and asked customers for money, paid the bills, and took care of everything the office needed. In modern day business, we have actual terms for the hats that she wore. They are called: Controller, Credit Manager, Customer Service Manager, Traffic Manager, Office Manager, Secretary, Human Resources Manager, and Operations Manager. Tony focused on what he did best, engineering and manufacturing, and Helen handled most everything else.

Helen was a forward thinker. In 1978, most people hadn’t even heard of computers, let alone used one. Helen started using a computer that had a remote connection in which you place the handset of the telephone into a modem device so that your terminal could communicate with the remote host mainframe computer. She used the computer to help her invoice her customers and do her accounting. In those days floppy disks were 8” in diameter and computer memory cost $1000 per megabyte.

I was not able to attend the Annunciation Greek Food Festival a few weeks ago, but I would be interested in knowing how the pilafi tasted. I remember my mother with Argiro Milon and Elpida Pappis toiling away in the kitchen preparing the pilafi, year after year. With all of the food festivals, Cretan Picnics, Epimenides events, and countless other functions, Helen has fed “Kritiko Pilafi” to literally tens of thousands of people over her lifetime. And given that she prepared it almost every night in her own home, I would not be surprised if the number was more than 100,000. I guess they liked it; they kept coming back to her for more. Helen was happy to dish it out; she wanted to make sure that you had enough to eat.

We watched Helen get better and then worse several times during her hospital stay. When she battled back and it looked like she was getting better, something else brought her back down. Week after week, she lived through every arduous moment, minute by minute, unable to speak, and sometimes she was unable to read or write. Many times, we might have spent a frustrated 20 minutes trying to comprehend just one sentence from her. It was all a very painful process.

Yet, she never quit. She did everything the medical establishment asked of her. And when she couldn’t manage to disconnect herself from the ventilator, she asked, “what went wrong?” This was a sobering question for those of us watching this process. But several times when I tested her resolve, I would ask, “mom…do you want to quit?” She would always answer with an “oxi,” delivered by a shake of the head.

And just when it seemed that she had licked the ventilator, just a few short weeks ago, she got an infection from an IV line that was there to help her. The infection got into her blood, affected her breathing and ultimately settled in her mitral heart valve. In her last week, she was rushed to the Novato Community Hospital ICU, where she spent her last days in a rapid decline, despite the heroic efforts that she received from that very fine hospital.

Her physical stamina and her ability to stay awake declined every single day. Her vital signs kept sliding and we knew, that her time was short. The doctor said that if the antibiotics kick in, it could kill the infection and her heart function would improve. That was our ray of hope. At the same time, she was so weak that she could not even lift a pencil, and barely mouth any words at all. The doctor told us that she would likely not recover, and would continue to decline. When I delivered that message to my mom and then asked her to tell me if she wanted to let go, she said “oxi”, in a defiant shake of her head.

We deliberated for days if this is what she really wanted. Did she fully understand what was happening? Is this a quality of life that she would want? Yet we continued to provide her with as much emotional support as we could, and all of the aggressive medical treatment that would be afforded to a person half of her age. It was an amazing struggle to observe, and I gained a new found respect for her quiet inner strength.

Mom, in the end, we all gave you exactly what you asked for…every chance in the world to survive. Your struggle was exemplary, and I could not be more proud of you and with the courage and grace with which you faced your ultimate demise. Thanks mom, for showing us all what moxy and faith really mean!

In her last week, on Tuesday, out of no where, more than 25 people showed up at the hospital that day, mostly her own family, grandkids, cousins, nieces, and nephews. Many were there in the ICU room at the same time, all wearing yellow isolation gowns, and blue gloves to prevent the spread of infection. It was an amazing sight to behold.

Somehow, Helen summoned all of these people without lifting a finger. They stayed for 2-3 hours, not just a cordial visit. They cared for her. They loved her, and as many as could come, did come. And there were many more that could not come that wanted to be there. The phone was ringing with people who reached out to our family.

Thank you to those who came to Helen’s emotional rescue during her four month journey. You helped remind our family to be strong and courageous and reminded us that we are loved. Thank you also to those who could not be there, but sent cards, photos, flowers, chocolates, and called by phone to say hello. And thank you to Father Stephen, Father Konstantine of Marin, and Deacon Niko for offering her communion and easing my mother’s heart in knowing that no matter where she is or goes, that she is close to God.

If you knew our mother, she never whined or complained in her life, and even throughout her hospital stay. She remained cooperative and never complained about anything, except their cooking, that is. It was never, “oh whoa is me”. It was rather, “what can I do for you?”. That is what my mom’s life was about, being in service to others. Over the years, it was not enough that she handled her own financial matters, but she managed several others that had been finally handed over after she went into the hospital.

Both Helen and Tony baptized many babies and had a very large koumbaria and extended family. I was always amazed that so many people knew my folks and would approach them at church gatherings or other Greek functions.

Helen was a detailed oriented person, and managed all of the details of her life with as much extraordinary attention as the Hurt Locker squad would use to dismantle an explosive device. Not able to speak while she was on the ventilator, she surprised us with the question: How many miles are on my car? Who in their right mind, after having spent 3 months on a hospital bed, and was in the process of being admitted to the ICU in Marin, would care about the mileage on her car? 23,600 was the answer. "Good", she said, "when it reaches 24,000, it's time for a tune-up. Tell Chris Daskalakis to take it to the Buick dealership".

By the way, Chris, where are you? The mileage is now at 24,300. I'll drop off the car to your house before we head out of town, okay? And by the way, I'm not kidding. I made a promise to my mother.

With as much sadness as we feel and we express in the next 24 hours, I cannot help but feel that the tears help to wash away the pain and expose the deep love, and commitment, and dedication that we all feel for Helen. A child's loss of a parent is never easy, but it is the natural order of things, and I can only feel joy that we have been able to en-joy our mother for as long as we have.

If there is a God, and if there is a heaven, and God please forgive me for asking these questions, Helen surely deserves a place there by your side. And I pray to God that he sees it the same way!

Helen will be missed, no question about that. But let me tell you a few things about our world that Helen will miss: She will miss our daily phone calls and updates. She will miss participating in the lives of her children and grandkids. She will miss her crossword puzzles. She will miss playing solitaire on the computer, as she has done over 80,000 times, and only lost 71 games. She will miss catching up on her facebook page and reading about how someone had just got out of bed with a headache. She will miss her community. She will miss going to church and listening to the choir, and hearing Father Stephen’s masterful sermons. She loved attending weddings and baptisms of course. She will miss her sister’s weekly visit. She’ll miss Jeopardy, The Price is Right, and her Greek TV channel with the corny Greek Soap Operas. She will miss being there when you need her to be there … for you.

Thank you all for coming tonight, and thank you for allowing me to indulge you with some details about our family and Helen’s life. She was a great lady, and she will be missed. Zoi se oleos mas!