ForeverMissed
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Just wanted to say hi..

August 1, 2018

Hi Peggy, 

This year has been quite eventful so far with a big family vacation which felt like a bootcamp. I got promoted, Hun went on biz trips almost every month, and Eurie had a surgery. Just going through the whole process of dealing with her medical needs, I would have to say, was the most difficult thing I've done as a mom.  But, I always thought of how you'd have handled situations like this, and it made me regain courage and hope. You would have been so proud of Eurie! We talk about you often and the girls remember how kind and sweet you were. We miss you very much. Though it might be some time until we meet again, when we do, I'll bring my emergency clubbing kit with me. We shall party like we did before. :-)

Love always,
지형이가

From August 8th ...

October 22, 2014

Hey 누나, remember our talks about tattoos? And how we said that we would never get a tattoo of someone else's name? Well, guess I was wrong. Got your Korean name (Chung Jin) in hanja the other day on my shoulder. I know there are other ways to "honor" you (wink, wink ... since that's the tattoo I got on my other shoulder when we were hanging out in New York), but I wanted a permanent reminder for myself. And the fact that your name means real, genuine and true made it really fitting.

I miss you so much. I keep finding myself waiting by my phone to see if you texted or called. I keep wishing for even another minute with you to tell you that I love you. I keep searching for a way to just go on, because I know that's what you would have wanted.

Thank you for being such an awesome sister, for being my best friend and for still watching over us all.

Love and miss you always

Liam's birthday

October 20, 2014
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This video was taken on Oct. 19, 2012, when Liam officially turned 1 year old. It's over 2 minutes long, but if you watch the whole thing, you'll get to catch glimpses of Peggy as she was and hear her beautiful voice.  
Yesterday, Liam turned 3 years old.
Yesterday was another birthday without Peggy.  
Yesterday was another day when she should have been there.
Yesterday was the second time celebrating Liam's birthday without her, his umma who only got to celebrate his first birthday with him.   
Though we filled the whole weekend with fun and laughter and love for Liam, it still felt terrible and so wrong without her.  Peggy, how we miss you so much and how we wish you were here.    

Always on our hearts & minds

September 15, 2014

(From my daughter, Juliette's kindergarten teacher): "I had to email you this morning because we had our first Meeting for Worship and before we began, I explained to the children that MFW is a great time to think about the things that they love to do or the people that they love to be with. I also said that if they know anyone who is sick, it's a good time to think about them and hope that they feel better and that if there is anyone that they miss, they could think about them and picture them in their minds and give them a great big hug in their heart or in their mind.

After Meeting for Worship, some of the children were sharing what they were thinking about and Jules raised her hand and said that she "misses her aunt who died but gave her her cousin". I asked her if she was thinking about her during MFW and she said she was. 

I just wanted to share this with you because it was so touching and your sister is alive in Juliette's heart and mind."

"I thought I knew...."

August 1, 2014

I thought I knew loss, but not like this.

I thought I knew pain, but not like this.

I thought I knew hardship, but not like this.

I thought I knew family, but not like this.

I thought I knew God, but not like this.

I thought I knew love, but not like this,

Never like this.

One year

August 1, 2014

What a day. Peggy has been gone for one whole year, and she is missed tremendously at WCS. While we must continue to move forward, her sense of right, calm yet firm demeanor, and overwhelmingly positive attitude will continue to live on.

"What would Peggy do" is not just a catchy phrase it's how many of us answer and respond to difficult questions and situations at WCS.


For me this day is a mix of emotions. Birthday of my twins, and passing of a colleague who I had the utmost respect for along with a genuine appreciation for her work.

Peggy is missed, but I will choose to remember the great conversations, and incredible work she did for the students and families at WCS.
 

One year later

August 1, 2014

It's official. She's been gone for one whole year at this very hour. How have we managed to survive without her? I do not even know. But I do know that somehow we are still here- standing strong & together. Life will never be the same again without you, Peggy. But I pray your memory is honored in the ways we do our best to love generously as you had loved, to give sacrificially as you had given, & to live fully as you had lived.

april 13, 2014

April 15, 2014

It's hard to share just one story with Peggy. I find that her influence is scattered throughout my days, in big and small ways. When I'm cutting fruit for my daughter, I am reminded of when Peggy taught me how to hold and use a paring knife properly so I didn't slice my thumb off, or the time we were in Union Square and bought a peeler from the guy who used to do demonstrations with crates of carrot peelings by his feet (I still have the peeler). When I look at my dishwasher that is full of reused ziplock bags that I wash out so I don't waste them, or when I use half a paper napkin or better yet, when I use a cloth napkin, I'm reminded of Peggy. Small things that I don't even think about now, like how I walk my friends to the train or bus station, making sure they get home safely—that's all Peggy's doing. She and I would walk our friends that visited or made sure they got into a cab headed in the right direction at the end of the evening. When she and I went out, we would stay out with the other person, even if the other one was incredibly tired or not having a particularly good time. At first, I thought it was just a “go with the flow” thing on her part, and it could have been a little of that, but I soon recognized it as lesson that I applied to all my friends—that if you look out for someone, they should look out for you, too.

When I'm in yoga class, I remember the times that Peggy and I would practice yoga in our apartment with an old VHS tape of mine, and how she'd wet two paper towels after each session for us to wipe down our mats because I was too tired and unable to move from the “resting pose” at the end. Or I think of the times we'd take our mats to a free workout event held in Central Park over the summer and try to keep up with the classes there. One of the yoga classes was held on a hill, for whatever reason, and I remember us trying to breathe and be all meditative despite the fact that we were slipping down the hill, trying to do downward dog. I think I began cursing and Peggy tried really hard not to laugh, as we both muttered, “Augh! I'm falling over!” Another class was a Bollywood-inspired dance class and I remember us running into each other constantly because I couldn't manage to follow the mirror image. And I remember all the times that Peggy tried to motivate me to go to the gym with her when we were in the West Village, and how we practiced with free weights together, because we needed to build up our muscles to carry our laundry across 6th Avenue. While we waited for our laundry, we'd sometimes stop into Vol de Nuit and grab a cone of Belgian fries and a beer, negating our prior workout sessions. But it was totally worth it.

When I go out to eat with a friend now, I always ask if they eat meat, as Peggy never was one to bring it up when we went out—she'd always just order something quietly and not make a big to-do about it. It's a seemingly small thing, but she never tried to assert her beliefs on anyone or tried to make a statement about the way she lived her life—she just did what she did because it was right for her. Noticing that, I began to speak up for her much to her embarrassment, making sure that there was always something she could eat, because she did the same for me when it came to my food allergies. But I think that unapologetic way of just living life, without compromise, without expectation from others, was extraordinary on her part.

There were the days where we'd sleep in on the weekends, staying in our beds and reading a bit before deciding what we'd do and who would use the bathroom first. We'd talk about the books we were reading and swap them when we were done. Some weekends we'd only venture out to get bagels and not much else. Other times, we'd go to the video store to rent another installment of whatever TV series we were watching. Some days, we'd go to a museum, or the park, or just walk around, discovering the city. At the end of the day, we'd call out “good night” to each other through the walls and retreat back into our books. And now I can see that that time was so precious not for all the funny stories or even for the more serious moments we shared, it was the ability to just be present in the moment. We learned that it was okay to not have a plan, that it was okay to just let life happen; we didn't have to wake up, ready to attack the day. We could let it just wash over us, and enjoy it. Because those two days on the weekends, that time, was ours. Not our jobs', not anyone else's. It was time to decompress, it was time to breathe. She helped tremendously in taking away my anxiety about life in that way. Her calming presence, her “take it easy” attitude, always put me at ease.

When I first became a mother, I was filled with so much worry about whether I was doing things the right way, and I thought constantly about all the ways I was failing. I never spoke about it with Peggy, but in her own way, just by watching her with Liam, she gifted me with one last lesson. I could see that what mattered wasn't when he ate or slept, or what milestone he was hitting, it was that he was happy, healthy, and full of love. It seems like an easy enough thing, something that should just be intuitive, but watching it in action was a profound realization for me. Even today, when I find myself wondering about my actions, I have to do a Peggy-check. Would she handle it this way? Is this really such a big deal? How does this affect others? And the bittersweetness of not being able to share this with her, how I've evolved and grown in large part because of her, saddens me. All the ways that she shaped my life, from the small daily tasks, to the larger ways she helped me to just literally breathe and take a step back, there isn't just one story I could share that would capture our friendship.

The last time I saw Peggy, she helped me to finish a skirt that I was having trouble with, my first foray into sewing. There were so many things I wanted to talk about then, things in the past, things in the future. But for whatever reason, I didn't. We just sat at her kitchen table, focusing on the task at hand, the sound of her sewing machine whirring while our kids napped. There was an assumption that there would always be another day we could talk about those things. I felt comfortable, like no time was lost between us, even though we had come so far from the weekends when we both slept in.

We shared a love of handwritten cards. Her tiny, even handwriting contrasted with my large, loopy letters. I remember how she loved the effort and the sentiment behind the card more than any present, how people could write things in a card that they might not say in person. If I could send her a card, there's so much I would say, it would fill up both sides of the insides of the card, the back, and probably the front. It would have arrows directing her to keep reading, because I wasn't yet done. As her family and friends celebrated her too brief life on her birthday this past weekend, I wished that there was some way that I could have had her back again, not just to give her this card, but to say in person, thank you for showing me so many things about life, the things that truly matter. I would tell her just how special of a friend she has been to me, and hope that I was a little of that for her as well. I would tell her how I still needed to return the favor to her somehow, that it wasn't fair that she was so generous with herself and her time, that we need her here so we can pay her back. But most of all, I would give her the biggest hug. Because the truth is, there are no words in any card that would equal that. Happy Birthday, p. Missing you lots. e.

Happy Birthday, Peggy.

April 13, 2014

Today is your birthday. This was the first time for us to celebrate your birthday without you. For a while, we didn't know what we were going to do, but then Brian had the wonderful idea of celebrating your birthday the way you always used to - with a big birthday dinner at our parents' house! We had a birthday party for you last night that I know you would've loved. It was a time full of great outdoor play, great food that you had loved, and the absolutely best company made up of your closest friends and family. It felt right to celebrate you and the wonderful life you had lived with people who loved you so much. It also felt completely incomplete not to have you there with us, but we sensed you were there in our hearts, minds, and spirits, especially as we shared our Peggy stories and memories. This whole weekend, I've been feeling out of sorts, like something is missing. You are who we are missing. I wish more than anything that you could be here here. You really will be forever missed. Happy birthday, dearest Peggy, my beloved sister. Today is your birthday, but I promise I will do my best to celebrate your life each day of my life.

Oh Peggy, I really miss your laugh.

January 10, 2014
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This video was taken in April 2009 (when Hannah was 2.5 years old & Jules was only 3 months) right before Peggy's 32nd birthday.  It's a clip that our family loves to watch over and over again because it reminds us of how fun Peggy eemo was, how much we loved to hear her laugh, & how much she loved our family.  She was simply the best.

It's been 5 months...

January 10, 2014
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How am I? Honestly? I know that what people would like to hear is that I'm okay, and that's what would make them feel relieved or comfortable. But the truth is I am NOT okay and I don't think I will be for a very long time. And I hope everyone can be okay with that. Peggy, my younger and only sister - the one who I looked out for her entire life (who also became one who I looked up to as we grew older), the one who gave of herself so selflessly to her family and friends, the one who loved me and all those around her so generously - she is gone forever, and I'm still not okay with that. I miss her all day every day. Of course that doesn't mean I never find moments of joy or laughter - our amazing children give us countless reasons to be thankful and celebrate. But everything is tinged with grief, loss, a sense of incompleteness and wrongness because Peggy isn't here with us. To go from seeing her every day to never again has been unbearable at times. I often feel like we are in this holding pattern - doing our best to survive and get through each day until she.... but the truth is she's never coming back, and that is a cruel reality we struggle facing every day. And these are just a few of the many reasons why I am not okay. But I hope one day I will be.

In Memory of Peggy

November 5, 2013

At the request of Peggy's family, I wanted to share my "best friend" remarks at the funeral that were made alongside Juliette.  It had taken me a while to write my notes for that leading up to Peggy's funeral, and it's taken me this long to tackle these feelings again and write them down here today.  It's remarkable how raw the feelings of disbelief, loss and sorrow still are after these few months, and in a way I hope it never dulls.  I still think about Peggy every moment of the day - when I am brushing my teeth, taking the subway to work, washing the dishes.  Grudgingly, I know we all have to keep moving on - but I never want to let go.  These feelings, however sad and sorrowful, keep Peggy in my heart.  And I love being in Philly at your house in Rose Lane, where your presence is even stronger.  I can't believe the last I heard from you is to let me know how dialated you were the afternoon before you went into labor, but I hope you hear me when from time to time I still blurt out loud that I love you, Peggy, and I miss you so much.

 

Remarks from August 5, 2013:

 

I met Peggy in junior high school, and though Juliette and I were close friends in elementary school before she went to a different middle school, the three of us became great friends in ninth grade when we were all at Langley.  I am so blessed to have been with Peggy all throughout middle school, high school, at UVA together, in nothern virginia together after graduation, and once Peggy moved to NYC for graduate school at NYU, I moved there a year later for law school, and we must have been in new york for a decade.

Someone once told me: "You are the total sum of the 5 people you choose to spend time with daily."  In other words, as the saying goes, "You are the company that you keep."  That being the case, I am so lucky - I could have been a TOTALLY DIFFERENT person!  But I am the person I am today with Peggy's love, friendship and influence.

As you all know, Peggy was never a wasteful person.  In high school we passed each other notes, and hers were always scribbled in the tiniest handwriting on corners of papers.  As anyone knows by going over to Peggy's house, there are used ziploc bags that are washed out and drying, for future use.

More importantly, Peggy was always so passionate and supportive of her own passions and the passions of her friends.  Her creativity came out in the pillows, purses and dishtowels that she made for us.  She bought Juliette's poetry books and attended her poetry readings, she would always come out to concerts with me (remember interpol!) and see random bands with me, she was always supportive of Brian's work, had knowledge of his craft, and together they created things to display at craft fairs in Philly.

Peggy is such a constant, she was always true to herself.  Even looking back at her notes from high school, her handwriting is still the same today.  The cards I get from her today still have the same happy face smiles.

She was such a great listener, and her skill was resolving conflict without confrontation.  Peggy used her "jedi mind tricks", where she could prove a point in the form of a question - i.e., "do you really think you should....?" or "do you think that's the right way to go...?"  And she was so good at giving space and knowing when you needed it, but she wouldn't be that far away for a hug.  (God, I would give anything for one of those long conversations with Peggy and a hug from her right now.)

And importantly, Peggy always relished in simple pleasures.  She knew how to enjoy life - how she loved her mom's cooking, her dad's homemade wine (which we would save for special occasions), she loved fries and potato ships (Juliette and I still point out the curved-over potato chips that Peggy loved so much), and she loved getting jjam-bbong with her halmuni when she was in Virginia.  I ran into Sang-Hyun obba before the service, and I was thinking about the time that Peggy and I were house-sitting his apartment on JPA by ourselves, where we cranked up the music, turned on the TV to a blue screen and just started dancing like crazy and jumping on beds!  And I'm pretty sure we were screaming along the words to "Don't Speak" by No Doubt.  HA!  How embarrassing.

And now we are here, and it's upsetting to be talking about these things.  We are all devastated, empty, heartbroken - all in such an irrevocable way.  In the midst of all this, I'm trying to find a way to interpret this tragedy in way that we can move forward.  And I do feel comforted because Peggy's love, friendship and influence in all of us still hasn't changed.

Yes, Peggy's legacy lives on in Liam and Oliver.  But her legacy lives on in all of us as well.  She touched us all in such a permanent way.  I know it in the way I will save, hang-dry and re-use paper towels, and we'll know it in the way we'll be writing cards to each other.  I will hear Peggy's voice in the back of my head saying "Take it easy!" (and the way she would say it in that sing-songy voice).  I'll certainly be using Peggy's jedi mind tricks on people in the way I ask questions.  And Peggy is still in all of us when we continue to dance like nobody's watching, and as we love each other like it's never going to hurt again.

3 months today (written on Nov. 1, 2013)

November 2, 2013

It's been 3 months
And it still feels so unreal.
Are you really gone... forever?
Every morning I wake up 
And I say,
I can't believe this is my life.
But life keeps moving
And I do my best to move along with it.
Every afternoon that goes by
My heart longs for your return.
I sense you near whenever I am with your boys,
But what I wouldn't give to see you again in the real.
Every night that closes the day
I mourn the harsh reality that you're never coming back,
And I find myself in such deep sorrow
That I cannot sleep.
So I stay up 'til the wee hours
Looking at pictures to see your face,
Watching videos to hear your voice,
Looking for anything that I can hold onto that reminds me of you,
Never wanting to throw away anything that bears your touch-
Cards you wrote, clothes you designed, bags you made...
All things you created with your beautiful hands with such love.
And then sleep finally comes,
Only to wake up a few hours later,
And I say,
I can't believe this is my life.

It happened to her

October 21, 2013

It happened.
It happened to her.
It happened to her and we are all here.
It happened in the middle of the night.
She was happy and well.
He arrived and he was beautiful.
She left us.
It was cloudy when the sun rose.
It rained and was gray.
The sun went down and rose again.
It happened.

It happened to him.
He was with her and then he wasn’t.
He loved her and waited.
It happened and it was shocking.
It cast a strange light.
Dark and glowing, her name sounded new and the same.
Dark and glowing, how everything changed that remained.

It happened to us.
There are many of us, and we loved her.
Some of us were waiting for her before she arrived.
Some of us waited a long time and were excited.
She was born.
She cried and smiled.
Her voice took shape and it was the clear sky at noon.
Some of us watched her grow.
Some of us knew her later.
We wrestled and studied and shared things with her.
We took walks and ate food together.
We played and sang.
We delighted in her.
It happened.
We all called her name.

She slept as straight as a starling pinion in her bed.
She savored the good things.
She told stories and fell asleep at movies.
She came home each day.
She laughed and her laughter was the brightest lily.
She gazed at us with clear, dark eyes.
She startled at the gorgeous dawn.
She sewed and painted and planted.
She made things with her hands. Her fingers were smooth and long.
She cooked and touched and comforted.
She spoke the truth and it was gentle.
She helped children and friends.
She helped neighbors.
She helped everyone she knew.
She helped and in her helping she loved.
She loved quietly.
She loved without demand.
She loved with all of herself.

for Peggy Jin Thrash (nee Chung)
April 13, 1977 — August 1, 2013



I wrote this poem and shared it at Peggy's funeral. The days after I received the news, I was in a state of extreme shock. I felt as though my own spirit were hovering above my body, watching me. I was dumbstruck that she had passed away. We had been messaging each other just a few hours before it happened.

As the sadness poured through me and I tried to come to some understanding of why this happened, I realized that I would never find one. There is no way to understand how someone as good, beautiful, loving, and kind as Peggy could slip away in the middle of the night. 

What I realized is that I can only accept it. I cannot understand it.

Grace enters our lives unasked. It can also depart from them.
What I get to hold onto are the memories.

I still remember the very first time I saw her. She was sittting in my science class, a few rows up from me in the corner. She was wearing glasses, her eyes were dark and clear. I felt a simple goodness from her. And so we became friends slowly over time, over the years. With sweetness. Like honeysuckle.



 

For Miss Peggy

September 12, 2013

Recently, Brian, my mom, and I had the opportunity to attend memorial services for Peggy at Wissahickon Charter School, where she worked as a guidance counselor. We were moved by the words that students shared about what Miss Peggy meant to them. Here are some of the many encouraging things that were said about my sister who was their dearly loved counselor, teacher and friend:

"Miss Peggy had a smile that made my day."
"Miss Peggy helped me stay calm. She helped me with my anger."
"Miss Peggy helped me with my feelings. She helped me feel happy when I was sad or felt bad."
"Miss Peggy helped me make friends."
"She helped me feel like I belong at this school."
"Because of Miss Peggy, I am still here."
"She helped me with all my problems."
"Miss Peggy was the one person I could really talk to."
"I never talked to Miss Peggy about my problems, but I knew I could." 
"No one could ever be like Miss Peggy."
"Whenever Miss Peggy came into the room, we all got quiet."
"I could always count on Miss Peggy to be there for me."
"Miss Peggy was one of the only teachers who really listened to us."
"Miss Peggy really cared about our future and wanted us to succeed."
"Miss Peggy was the best person I knew."

Peggy, I hope you knew how loved and valued you were not only by your family and friends, but also by your co-workers and students. You made such a huge difference in so many people's lives when you were here. Even though you are gone now, your life will continue to impact all of us as we strive to live our own lives to the fullest with compassion, kindness, integrity, and love. We miss you so much.

"Pictures of you"

September 2, 2013

It feels so strange now
When I look at pictures of you,
Pictures of us, pictures of our kids,
Pictures of way back when and not so long ago
They remind me of such fond memories
I want to turn around to laugh with you about what happened when.....
And then
I remember
You are not here to laugh with
To reminisce with
To share with
And then
It hits me
This picture
These pictures
They're all we have of you now
No more looking back together
No more strolls down memory lane
No more new experiences to share
No more future memories to make
No more pictures of you
It feels so strange.

"Supposed to be"

August 30, 2013

It isn't supposed to be like this,
   It isn't.
You're supposed to be here with us,
   But you're not.
We're supposed to be celebrating with YOU that your new baby boy is finally here,
   But we're not.
Liam & Oliver are supposed to be receiving lots of hugs & kisses from YOU, their umma,
   But they're not.
We were supposed to grow old together & watch our kids grow up,
   But we won't.
This isn't how it's supposed to be,
   But it is.
What are we supposed to do now?
Who are we supposed to be with you gone?
How are we supposed to do this thing called life without you?
So many hopes, plans, dreams supposed to be,
   But never will.
Not sure where or how to go from here-
To go from what was supposed to be
   To what will now be.

3 weeks later...

August 30, 2013

As I look around
It's like I see you everywhere
In the everyday things of life
I find I still wait for you
To show up with your "Hey!"
and your twinklin' eyes
Beautiful smile
Your laughter full of joy
and even tears (from too much funny! )
I still wait for you to come
I can't help it
I know you can't come
Yet I know you are here
You are here.
I know you are
But I still miss you
I wish you were here here.

8/20/13 - Thoughts of Peggy

August 30, 2013

Every day is filled with so many moments, sights, sounds, objects, experiences that remind me of my beloved sister, Peggy- so much so that I almost forget she's gone. It seems that unreal. I often catch myself expecting to see her walk through the front door or pop her head around the corner. But then the profound hollow ache in my heart brings me back to the harsh reality that that will never happen again. There are times when I feel crippled with grief, but then I'm immediately reminded we have 4 little ones whose lives cannot remained immersed in loss but need to keep moving forward & so we do. But we do so with thoughts of Peggy every step along the way.

 

my precious niece

August 16, 2013

I will always remember my niece Peggy as a giver.  She put other peoples needs above hers.  I still remember how well she took care of my youngest daughter karam when we first moved to America from Korea.  Peggy had this cabbage patch doll that was special to her.  She played with it often.  But she offered it to Karam as a gift with hesitation knowing that the doll made Karam happy.  I never witnessed her bragging about something she had or intentionally wanting someone to feel bad.  What a kind heart she had.  

I rememeber her wedding with fondness.  It was so unique and special, done in Peggy's way.  It was a great chance to see her on her special day that heightened her wonderful qualities.  The family really appreciated the opportunity to share in her joy.  She was such a beautiful bride, inner and outer.

Peggy was also a wonderful mom.  Although I didn't have too many opportunities to spend time with her and Liam together, on the occasions I did, I never heard Peggy speak harshly or raise her temper.  She spoke lovingly, patiently to Liam, treating him with respect and showering him with so much love.  Although shortlived, she showed us a glimpse of what an awesome mother she would've been to Liam and Oliver.

Peggy will also be remembered for being a selfless and honorable wife, mom, and my niece. Peggy, 사랑한다.

Love,
작은 고모 

Lansdowne Friends’ Remembrances

August 16, 2013

Here are a few memories I was honored to share at Peggy's memorial.

There are many definitions of community. In Lansdowne, I’ve come to know that community is about knitting together a loving and inclusive family. Peggy and Brian, as well as Grace and Tom and all the kids, have become part of that family.

We first met Peggy and Brian a few years back when they moved to Lansdowne from New York. It may be my age or my good taste, but they struck me as the coolest people I’d met in a long time. It didn’t take long to rope them in to our little community.

Seven years ago, a crazy bunch of Landowners decided to start a Farmers Market. When seeing each other every Saturday from spring to fall wasn’t enough, we started a movable feast that we called the pot luck Community Dinners.

Not long after they had met a bunch of us, Peggy and Brian offered to host the community dinner at their house. It happened to be on our friend Grace Caputo’s birthday, and here’s what she remembers:

Word must have preceded me because when I arrived at the house, Peggy was the first person to wish me happy birthday, even though she'd never laid eyes on me before. Plus, Peggy's sister Grace -- also my first meeting -- had made a birthday cake for the occasion, so clearly there had been some planning involved ahead of time. This went a long way to show me the kind of thoughtful and generous people Peggy and Grace were, even to mere strangers.

About three years ago, my husband John and I hosted a community dinner at our house and once again, Peggy and Brian came along. She looked gorgeous, as always, with a smile that lit up the sun and a gentle spirit that made everyone know she was a good, good friend.

Our friend Magda remembered it this way (forgive me for not doing her wonderful New York accent):

I think the first time I met Peggy (and Brian) was at a community dinner. We introduced ourselves and chatted for a bit. I offered to pour Peggy a glass of wine but she was very early on in her pregnancy with Liam. So I poured an extra glass for Brian so he could drink on behalf of Peggy. (LOL) After that I would run into them at the farmers market or at other community events and they were always very pleasant, always said hello, and Peggy would always address me by my name -- which a lot of times no one remembers. I realize that none of this stuff is very significant but people I know better than the Thrashes sometimes are not as warm. These little insignificant mannerisms made such a great impression on me. Not many people can make you feel like you are a close friend when you know that you're not but she did -- and Brian does too. 

Our friend Jennifer Hoff has this memory:

I met Brian long before Peggy. Brian was this rough and tumble guy but when I met Peggy, I absolutely loved Brian in his role as husband and father. You could see how much they loved each other.

I loved talking to Peggy. She actually listened. She always looked right at you. She was a happy, joyous person.

In May, I needed an extra volunteer to man one corner of the Lansdowne 5k run. Even though she was very pregnant, she volunteered her family and they were all out there.

What a loss. It's all I can think about. Brian will rise to the occasion. He will be a great leader in his family.

In the last year, we were all happy that Brian and Peggy were expecting Oliver, a soon-to-be buddy for their darling son Liam.

One day at the farmers market, Peggy asked me if John and I would be the “local grandparents” for Liam and their expected child. We said of course. This is what you do in Lansdowne. She knew we missed our own grandchildren terribly, since they live so far away in Iowa and California. Liam and one of our grandsons were born around the same time so when we’d see Brian and Peggy’s boy, we felt like we had a peek into our own grandson’s development. Plus, Liam is just so darn cute. Who could resist?

Dinner invites from the Thrashes were always so much fun. The two of them would put out a spread you wouldn’t believe -- pierogies and kimchee, grilled kielbasa and Korean noodles, fancy steaks and marinated tofu, and, of course, beer handcrafted by Brian and Tom.

But what was really served at that table was love.

This past weekend was our First Friday art event and the Saturday Farmers Market. That’s where our community was able to initially share our shock and sadness at Peggy’s loss. We like to hug here in Lansdowne and there were a lot of hugs over the last few days.

Peggy will live in our hearts forever. We will remember her to Liam and Oliver and tell them what a cool mom and wonderful friend she was to her adopted community of Lansdowne. Brian, you know we are here for you, whenever you need us. 

dear peggy...

August 14, 2013
Whenever I think of Peggy, I can see and hear her laughter. She always seemed to be genuinely happy. She has a depth to her that is rare. She was easy-going, open-minded, and extremely giving. Although only a few months older than me, I always thought of her as an older sister because of her maturity and sincerity. I remember having so much fun with Peggy. We used to play ISpy on the parents, read stories together, exchange stickers in our sticker books, play dress up… i remember once giving an operation to one of her dolls because the back stitching got messed up. We were extremely happy when the operation went well and held a celebration. Peggy was also extremely creative. Once she was spending a few nights at my house and we stayed up very late reading from My Book of Bible Stories. The next day, she suggested we make a play out of the stories to show my parents when they got home. We had parts, a script, and even props. One scene, I can't remember exactly which one, involved a prison. So she took a laundry basket and placed it over the actor's body because the lines and holes reminded her of prison bars. We draped ourselves with linen sheets and used all sorts of other household items to make the play believable. We even sang a finale song, marching around the parents. I remember performing these skits and having so much fun. With Peggy, it was easy to have fun and laugh. She made you feel comfortable. She was my first friend when I came to the States and I was never lonely because of her special friendship. I regret so much not being able to spend more time together as adults. But she will forever be a special part of my life and will always always have a special place in my heart.

on our way

August 13, 2013

to crash parties. ;-)

Wherever, and whenever there was a fun party, we were there…even if we weren’t invited on some occasions, but we didn’t care. :p 

1996 at UVa

August 13, 2013

Yes, we do look like 9th graders in the picture. ;-)

I remember the very first time we met in 1996, which was my first year at UVA. I was at the Clemon’s library one day, and there came Peggy, dressed in black and silver, with Grace Kim, who’s also our very close friend.  Both of them just started talking to me as if they had known me for years.  It took us just a few moments to realize how well we clicked and shared many things in common.  It might have seen like an odd combination to others; these two cool girls and a shy FOB girl. But I knew instantly that it was going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. The friendship that I will cherish forever....

 

@ Peggy's Parents' House

August 13, 2013

with her dorky "V" sign LOL

(Miso, me, Grace, Juliette, Mini, and Peggy)

My Words to Peggy

August 9, 2013

8/5/13 - Peggy's memorial service
On behalf of our family, we are truly in awe of the overwhelming number of people who came out today to express their love for Peggy.  It's wonderful to see so many old and new faces here.  But I think I can speak for everyone when I say - and please don't take offense at this - but we would trade all of this to have Peggy back with us.

You may have noticed that the immediate Thrash-Loyd-Chung (TLC) family members are wearing these special blue shirts.  Most of you are familiar with the personalized apparel we often wear, courtesy of Peggy and Brian.  We wear these Peggy shirts in remembrance and as an homage to her creative thoughtfulness.

Now I have a few words to share about my sister....

On Thursday, August 1st, our immediate family (minus my brother, Jimmy, and sister-in-law, Lammy, who were trying to fly back from their honeymoon in Korea) had the opportunity to gather around our lost Peggy and hold hands in silence as we tried to do the impossible:  say goodbye to our Peggy. 

There were things I so desperately wanted to say to her but no words could come out of my mouth that day.  But I want to share them today.... 

Peggy, as I see you laying there so peacefully, I keep fighting the urge to yell at you to wake up.  You have to wake up and end this terrible nightmare.  But you don't, you can't.  Is this real?  Are you really gone?  No.  No, no, no, no, no!  This cannot be.  Our family does not work without you.  I don't know how to do this without you.

But I see you're gone.  You're really gone.  What are we going to do without you?   I feel like there's this Peggy-shaped hole in my heart that will never be filled.  We will miss you always and forever.

But I promise you that we'll be okay.  I promise you that I will continue to love your boys as my own, with all of my being.  I promise you that our family will keep taking care of each other.  We will rally around each other and build upon the bond we forged last summer.  So don't worry about us, ok?  Go in peace, dear sister.  I love you, Peggy. 

In Memory of my Sister-Friend, Peggy

August 9, 2013

Following is the speech I gave at the service:

Hi, I'm Elissa. For those of you who don't know me, I was Peggy's roommate for several years when we both lived in New York City.  My friendship with Peggy was unlike any other friendship I've had in my life because it captured a transitional moment: we were both in our 20s, we were both single, and we were both trying to figure out our lives. We met because we both had roommates that we had nothing in common with and we'd hang out in the stairwell between our floors, trying to figure them out.  In that stairwell, we started a tradition of late night chats and I quickly found out what a kind, generous, and funny person Peggy was.

 

To me, Peggy was more than just a roommate, more than just a friend.  She was the sister I always wanted but never had.  She understood me when nobody else did, and around her, I was unafraid to be vulnerable because she never had any judgments and she always had compassion.   She was calm and collected where I was impulsive and hot-tempered, she was patient where I was easily annoyed.  I often wondered what she even saw in me, as our personalities seemed so far apart.  But a strange thing happened.  She began to rub off on me and I can honestly say that the best parts of my personality have largely been shaped by watching how gently Peggy tread through life.  In an unrelenting city where you had to hit the ground running or get out of the way, being far from family and friends, it was easy to feel lost in the crowd, it was easy to feel lonely.  But with Peggy as my friend, I never felt alone.  We spent so much time together in those days that with one look, we knew each others thoughts, to the point of it weirding out my friends, who joked that we had some sort of telepathy.  In one of our apartments, I drew two superhero figures to place on the wall, one with a P and one with an E on its chest, because those were our alter egos—Super Peggy and Super Elissa, ready to take on the world.  Super Peggy and Super Elissa did things like go to Jamaica, where I went snorkeling for the first time despite my irrational fear of the ocean.  I'm a weak swimmer, so I had a life vest on, but instead of leaving me to float in the sea like a buoy, Peggy dragged me by the life vest and swam next to me so I could see the coral. And when she accidentally kicked over some of that coral with an, “Ooops!”, I quickly looked over my shoulder and kicked us out of there as quickly as my floating body could before we got in trouble. That sort of describes a lot of our dynamic.       

 

As Peggy's roommate, I met her family, her friends—probably a good portion of people in this room at one point or another came and visited or stayed over at our place.  To know Peggy was like having a Golden Ticket to knowing her fantastic friends and family.  And I feel so fortunate to have been given the chance to be invited into that inner circle.   

 

We first lived in a tiny 5th floor walkup in the West Village, with the steepest set of stairs ever—this apartment's stairs were so steep, we would call each other before walking up these stairs to ask if the other one needed anything from “Down Here”, like it was another planet.  We made silly New Year's resolutions that year to watch a movie a day (mine) and to eat a new cheese every day (Peggy's), we missed the July 4th fireworks that year because we waited on the banks of the wrong river.  It was in that apartment that I retreated to on September 11th, and it was in that apartment that Peggy waited faithfully with me until I heard word that my father was okay.  We sat in that apartment and watched the news, crying for days, until we finally shut the tv off and walked outside.  We stood in line at a hospital in the ghost town of lower Manhattan to donate our blood because we had to do something other than crying.  We were in shock, we were full of a collective sadness, and we were spilling over with this weird energy, this—we need to do something, anything, to try and help to reverse this awful thing that had happened.  It's not unlike how I feel right now.

 

Our second apartment was on the Upper East Side and we learned a bit from our first apartment—we were on the 3rd floor, and we had increased our square footage.  We had a fully functioning kitchen, but still didn't cook much.  To this day,  I can't look at the combination of boxed mac and cheese mixed with canned tuna without thinking of Peggy.  Peggy's friends and relatives often came over and took us out for meals, I think out of pity.  When Mr. and Mrs. Chung would come to visit, I think the idea that we were living off of bread, cheese, and french fries was so secretly horrifying to them, they'd always bring up food and stock our fridge.  Thank you so much for that.  Peggy loved the home-cooked meals and she was the type of person who even though she could have kept it all to herself, always shared it with me.  All that good home cooking took a toll on our waistlines, so Peggy bought one of those stomach bands off of an infomercial we saw once.  The band would zap electric currents into your abdomen so you'd have a six pack without having to do a single sit up—it was buy one get one free—and we'd sit for days on end watching tv, getting zapped in our bellies, all while talking about our fears, our hopes, our futures. 

 

We had lots of fun and funny moments in that apartment.  I can tell you about the time we managed to lock ourselves into the apartment and had to call the fire department to get us out (they laughed at us, too), or the time I discovered a bar with twelve different flavors of martinis and tried all of them, which was followed  by us missing the Dalai Lama speak the next day.  That's the kind of friend Peggy was.  She gave up the Dalai Lama to help her silly roommate nurse a wicked hangover. She made me her mom's chicken soup when I had the flu even though she didn't eat meat, and she brought me Jello when I had my wisdom teeth pulled.  All these things she did for me, just because she was the type of person she was.  My parents always said that they felt safer knowing I was with Peggy, that we had each other to look out for, but the truth was, it was a very uneven deal. 

 

In our final apartment in Brooklyn, we lived on the second floor and it was about 5 times the space of our first apartment.  In this apartment, Peggy wanted to have a blue room.  So she picked this color called Robin's Egg.  As we painted, Peggy said to me, “Um, does this seem a little bright to you?”  And it ended up being this neon baby blue color. So for whatever reason, we decided to put more paint on it, maybe like three more coats.  And it only got brighter and brighter.  As we watched it dry, we looked around and noticed that even our skin looked blue, that's how bright this blue was.  And I said I guessed that robins' eggs really were that bright in real life and she said, “Oh.  Yeah....”  The realization set in, “Aw, maaan.”  We were in this apartment when I met my now husband, Josh, and she met Brian.  And I won't divulge any of our talks about them, because that would violate girl code, but basically, we were both smitten with them and we both fell in love very quickly.  Peggy and I had so many parallel key moments in our lives—we got married in the same year, we had our first kids in the same year—that I can't even begin to register what it means for us to not continue our parallel lives. 

 

My most recent memory of Peggy was just last month, when Liam and my daughter Eva were shooting basketball hoops in Peggy and Brian's kitchen, squealing and cheering, as me, Josh, Brian, and Peggy egged them on to “Shoot!”  As we doled out high fives and laughter, Peggy leaned back in her chair at one point, massaging her tummy because little Oliver was kicking, probably in anticipation of the fun times around us, and she smiled.  In that moment, I know, she was content, she was happy, she was at peace, she was full of the love surrounding her.  She was no longer searching or seeking, because she had found her home, her heart.  I look back on all of our years in New York City and having seen and been a part of her life journey, in that moment, I thought of how far we had both come since those days in the stairwell.  This was the future we had often talked about, but couldn't picture.  We had made it. 

 

Thank you for letting me share my memories with you.  I know I will keep all of these and more close to my heart, so that I never forget what a special and completely irreplaceable person Peggy is to me.  As Gandhi once said (in the film, I've no idea if he actually said this or not in real life), “There are no goodbyes for us.  Wherever you are, you will always be in my heart.”  Rest in peace Peggy, I love you.  Without you, I don't really know how to be Super Elissa anymore—I'm just a lost buoy, floating alone at sea.

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