Anna BahrFriend and fellow editor

Conor was adversarial, intense, difficult. He was also earnest, engaged, charming, and very, very sweet. I'm shocked he's gone. He will always be 20 in my memory – ready to fight, eager to make up. A smart writer and editor who made me a better one. A good friend.

Anna Bahr

Ross BarkanFellow journalist and friend

Dear Ms. Deighan and Mr. Skelding,

I'm writing to you to express, belatedly, my deepest condolences for your loss. I'm a journalist in New York and I was a friend of Conor's there. I've been meaning to write this letter to you for months and I had struggled with it because I didn't know what exactly to say. Conor and I were in the business of words but sometimes words fail you. I can't imagine what you've gone through and I hope you can find comfort in this very difficult time. I wanted to share simply that I knew your son and he was a rarity: a brilliant, original thinker, and very fun to be around. I miss, tremendously, how he would get this twinkle in his eye before getting ready to out-debate you on any policy point. He could always do it because he was smarter than you, because his mind worked at a deeper level. He truly stood out wherever he went and he was made of better stuff than the rest of us. More important than his superlative mind, Conor had an enormous heart. He wasn't a cynic. He cared deeply. The world is profoundly worse off without him. Death is very hard to comprehend and I haven't quite understood year that Conor isn't coming back. Your family is in my thoughts and Conor is someone I think about every day. My condolences again for your terrible loss.

Sincerely,
Ross (Barkan)

Matt ChayesColleague and friend

To the Skeldings,

Before Friday I'd have called up Conor for advice on how to strike the right tone in a condolence note to a dear friend. Alas…..I’m so saddened for your loss-and for ours. Conor was my colleague, office mate, fellow cyclist, confidant, advisor, consigliere, drinking buddy, interlocutor/sparring partner, travel companion, host, soundboard, but most simply, a wonderful friend. I really miss him; I always will.

May his memory be a blessing.

Matt Chayes

Margi ConklinHired Conor at the New York Post

May 5, 2024

Dear David and Karen,

I hired your son Conor at the New York Post in April 2021. My colleague Paul and I were immediately struck by his sweetness and eagerness to learn. He took feedback so well, and strove to do his best in everything he tackled. We loved working with him, and I still feel his loss and think of him often.

There was never any doubt that Conor was special. But I didn’t realize how special until this year, when something happened that touched me very deeply. This is why I am writing to you now.

In January 2023, I moved onto a new job as Managing Editor of The Free Press. We are a startup journalism company, recruiting lots of new writers and editors to our team.
One writer, by the name River Page, crossed my path recently. He has enormous talent, but comes from a small town in Texas with parents who have no connections to the world of journalism. Last month, I flew River up to NYC to have lunch with me and discuss joining our team.

I asked him straight off: How did you get into journalism? How did you even know you could write?

He said he had been writing online and on Twitter for a while when he wrote one piece on a niche blog that got some attention, particularly from a writer at the New York Post. He said, “His name was Conor Skelding. He was so supportive of me. He helped me make connections at the publication American Affairs, and that led to me having a career.”

I was stunned. I told River I had hired Conor, and we talked about what a great guy he was. Suddenly I felt like Conor was still in the world, working his magic, doing a good turn for people just because that was how he was wired. He was still helping River, and in fact, he was helping me, too, because I have since hired River full-time, and he is now an incredible addition to my team.

I wanted you to know your son is still making a difference in people’s lives. He was a truly giving soul, and his legacy is strong even though he left us very young. When I work with River now, I think of Conor, and how this young reporter might not have had the opportunity at The Free Press if it weren’t for your son.

I hope this story gives you some comfort. Sending you the warmest of thoughts as you continue to remember Conor, and all the good he brought to the world.

With gratitude,
Margi Conklin

Chris DeighanFamily

I attended Mass on St. Patrick's Day morning. I try to do it every year. I like to take selfies with the stained glass image and feel my Irish roots. No picture this year, unfortunately. Our baptismal font in the entrance to the sanctuary at Sacred Heart had literally over-floweth a few months ago. There were still repairs to be completed so masses were held in the social hall until recently.

I nabbed a seat in the back row. It's my default location anyhow, but there was a pretty good turnout. One of our deacons read the Gospel, from Mark. The one where a scribe asks Jesus, “which is the first of all the commandments?” Of course you know His response.

Fr. Carlos then offered a brief homily. Now Fr. Carlos is maybe 5-feet tall. With no dais or rostrum on which to stand, I couldn't see him. Somehow, that made his words more memorable. I closed my eyes and listened.

Fr. Carlos spoke of loving our neighbor and offered insights to how we might accomplish that task. And he said-rightly, I think-we have to know our neighbor. To know them we must talk with them. We must engage.

Beyond exploring my own shortcomings in this regard, I began to flash on Conor. To be sure, he was already in my thoughts. It was just the evening prior that I had learned of the extreme gravity of his situation. The homily-as they often do-seemed especially timely and appropriate.

The Conor I knew, never shied away from engagement. He never missed a chance to know someone better. Some of those conversations were sure to be awkward, but he pushed through. A great trait for a journalist (in my time so employed, I searched for content. Conor searched for Truth) but an even better trait for a Christian.

Love and Peace to you all,
Chris (Deighan)

Sarah DonovanRower Conor coached

To the Deighan/Skelding Family,

I met Conor during my first water practice-likely in 2009-2010. Conor was a confident St. Ignatius student coaching our “old lady” R.O.W. boat. Conor took his role seriously and had multiple suggestions/tips for most every part of my stroke-hands, body angle, slide recovery, blade depth, etc. Once we were back on land, I joked that it may be easier if he-in the future-just told me what I was doing right. We shared a laugh and I knew at that point that Conor was a special and caring individual to take time in explaining so much to me.

My favorite Conor interaction was when Jenn Gibbons, Kelly Anderson and I were in NYC for the Golden Oar Awards (2011). While stopping by Columbia to see Conor on our way to the airport on Sunday, he asked Kelly and me whether we liked our respective gynecologists-this seemed a little odd until he raved about his amazing mom and how she would be a great doctor for us. What 18-19-year old has the chutzpah to talk to older women about their OBGYN needs-we loved it! He was obviously very proud of his mom. ❤️

Please know I have been thinking a LOT about your family the past few weeks-I knew Aidan the best and my heart breaks for all of you. I can thank Conor and the whole Skelding family for making me a rowing fanatic.

Yours,
Sarah Donovan

Patrick EngelSt. Ignatius schoolmate and rowing teammate

To the Skelding Family,

I'm so saddened and crushed by Conor's passing and so sorry for your loss. It's one of those things that will never make sense.

I overlapped with Conor at Ignatius and on the rowing team for only a year, and saw him only every now and again afterward when he was in town, but his intellect and thoughtfulness came out in every interaction I had with him. Having a naturally pleasant demeanor is a skill, and a rare one. He had it.

I always enjoyed following Conor's journalism career from afar while I pursued my own and when mine began. His writing voice mirrored his personality and character. It felt authentic. Reading him made you smarter.

The world is dimmer without the ray of light Conor was. He will be missed in every corner of life he touched.

Much love,
Patrick Engel

Kelly ForsythFamily friend

Dear Karen and David, Cameron, Owen and Aidan,

Words are inadequate to express my condolences on your profound loss. What a remarkable man, your son and brother, Conor.

He touched and enriched more lives in his too few years than some people do in 100 years. That is certainly true for the Welindt/Forsyth family as you know.

Conor became a man in full through the crucible of pain and suffering. He was the epitome of stoicism, quiet resolve and faith. I will strive to follow Conor's example.

I love Conor and miss him dearly.

Kelly (Forsyth)

Sylvie KrekowBwog colleague, Columbia

Conor was my first Bwog buddy, and I will never forget his enthusiasm, passion, and ability to turn on a dime from talking about something incredibly serious to belly laughing about the ridiculousness of college/Columbia/someone playing f***ing Clair de Lune on the Lerner Piano as we were losing our minds at 2AM editing on a deadline. I can't write about him in the past tense yet, so I'll say: he is a bright mind who made so many pieces better; more importantly, he is a hugely compassionate and unique person who made so many lives better. I, too, will think of him every time I think about my college years.

Sylvie Krekow

Maike LiebermannFamily friend

Dear Karen and David,
Dear Cameron, Owen and Aidan,
Dear Lizzy,

The more I am reading through memories, that people shared about Conor, the more I wish I had known him better.

He must have been an extraordinary young man with many character traits that every parent would wish for in their child: kindness, integrity, faith, humor, honesty, selflessness…..just to name a few.

2 situations are coming to my mind when I think about Conor: Karen, you brought him to Gottlieb once around 2010ish. He was just about to start college and thinking about what he wanted to do after high school. He was so friendly and so polite. He helped us with a C-section (apparently this experience did not make a lasting impression for his career choice). The second picture that comes to mind is on your backyard ice-rink in River Forest: all 4 brothers teamed up with snow shovels, formed a line and cleared the rink from snow in no time. Total team players. What a tragic turn his young life took just about a year ago. What other great things would he have accomplished if disease had not striked at that time? I am so terribly sorry that he and your family had to go through this. I hope that each of you in your own term and time will find comfort knowing that Conor left his marks and memories in so many people and places. If there is anything that I can do to support you through this dark time, I will.

With much love,
Maike Liebermann and Family

Torsten OdlandColumbia classmate

Conor made a huge impression on me. He gave me a model of a journalist’s spirit that I loved and respected: intellectually serious, mindful of detail, massively curious, reflective about what matters; someone who deeply appreciates elegant unaffected prose. He’ll always be someone I think of when I reflect on how I changed and what I learned during my time at Columbia.

Torsten Odland

Luke PacerChildhood friend

Whiffle ball in the backyards, White Hen slushy runs, RFTC meet-ups, summer days at Schafer Lake and so many more memories flood my mind when I think of Conor. But no matter what we were doing in those days or whose house we were at, my most vivid memory of Conor is that he was always, truly and uniquely, himself. Quality or gift, his ability to always be Conor-kind, curious, interested, interesting, fun-loving, quirky, and joyful-made him a favorite amongst the Nowicki/Pacer/Sutton clan (especially with the parents who were quick to point out how we kids should be more like Conor). It saddens me to think about how rarely our paths had crossed since the days of summer breaks at the lake, but I am forever grateful for the time we shared and the memories of Conor that I get to keep.

Love,
Luke Pacer

Lou PerezFriend

My friend Conor passed away on April 21, 2023.

He was 31.

I found out on Sunday via text. My wife and I were stuck in traffic trying to get to the George Washington Bridge for an event in the City, when a friend of ours (mine and Conor’s) sent me the article in the New York Post.

I cried. My wife consoled me. Our car was stopped.

After some silence, I made myself throw out a joke:

At least Conor doesn’t have to deal with this traffic anymore.

Conor would have appreciated the joke.

Back in October of 2022, we spoke on the phone. That’s when I found out about his cancer. He was in the hospital in Chicago. Doing a lot of reading, he said. I told him I’d send him my book. Which I did…

Then I remembered the first chapter of my book is riddled with cancer – not all jokes – and I end the book with a story about the death of a friend.

The following month I reached out to Conor, “How are things?”

“ok.” He wrote back. “nice book btw. funny”

My wife and I decided to take the last exit before the GW and found a Korean BBQ spot in Fort Lee. After that we had soft-serve ice cream.

When we got home, our oldest son Andreas was waiting up with the babysitter for us.

I hugged him, as I always do when I get back home, but this time he held me so tightly.

My little boy – 3 years old – knew how much I needed him in that moment.

I thanked him for being there for me. For being.

It was bedtime, so I took him up to his room. His little brother was asleep on his own bed and on Andreas’s bed was Richard Scarry's "Cars and Trucks and Things That Go."

It’s the children’s book Conor gave him for his second birthday.

I don’t know how many pages they’ve ripped out of it – but, man, do my boys love that book!

It was Conor’s favorite children’s book too.

When I spoke to Conor back in October, I asked him if there was anything I could do for him, aside from sending him reading material.

He asked me to pray for him.

I did.

“You got me to pray the last time we spoke,” I texted him in November. “I’m going to pray again.”

And again: I’m praying for Conor. I’m praying for his mom and dad, his family and friends, and for his wife.

Something I’d also like to do is give away some copies of Richard Scarry's "Cars and Trucks and Things That Go" in honor of Conor.

I’m thinking 10 copies. So if you’d like one, please let me know. My DMs are open. And if you’re able, please pray.

Best,
Lou Perez
Author, That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore
Cancelled Productions
We the Internet TV
Comedy Is Murder
Greg & Lou

Tammy PistoleGodmother

Dear Karen,

I know there are no perfect words, but I hope you know these come from love.

Thank you for letting me be part of Conor's life and asking me to be his Godmother. He taught me more about living a grace-filled and Christian life than I ever taught him. He was such a good person and impacted so many lives. The support your family received at the visitation and funeral is a true testament to that.

Tammy (Pistole)

James ShapiroProfessor of English, Columbia University

Dear Karen Deighan and David Skelding,

As a parent of a son in his late twenties, I can't imagine the loss and grief you are experiencing, especially when you have lost such an exceptional child. I had written a brief note of condolence, and Kim Trucco, who reached out to me, has asked me if I might elaborate on those remarks. I am happy to do so

Conor's death struck my colleagues hard. Though we disagree on a lot of things, we were united in feeling the blow of the unexpected death of a former student we really cherished and admired.

As a rule, I try to discourage students from taking more than one class with me; in 40 years of teaching I've only admitted two students into three of my classes, and one of those was Conor, for the simple reason that he was a great kid to have in the room–just full of life, and enthusiasm, and excitement for whatever we might be discussing in that day’s class. One of the things I admired most about Conor was his ability to take, and build on, constructive criticism. Early on it was clear that writing would be a part of his life, so I put as much pressure as I could on him to up his game, write with the pressure I knew he was capable of. He took that criticism as it was intended, and became, over time, a better and better thinker and writer.

He would write to me periodically after he graduated, and I always enjoyed those exchanges–excitedly sharing one of his early pieces as a reporter for Capital New York back in 2015, or a piece in 2017 on the Pantaleo records for Politico. In 2020 he sent me a piece that ran in American Affairs , with a characteristic Conor line–”Please let me know how I can improve and what you think. It's a start.” That line embodied his great virtues: modesty, curiosity, a desire to improve, a sense that every effort was a start.

It deeply saddens me that I will no longer get Conor's periodic updates, no longer feel the rush of his excitement at another scoop or review, no longer get to watch his career’s upward trajectory from afar.

My condolences again on your great loss. I can only assure you that Conor will live on in the memory of many.

Sincerely,
James Shapiro
Professor of English, Columbia University