Originally posted on LinkedIn on March 19, 2024
A few weeks ago (“That Thing You Do”) I explained why I write these posts. I referenced a dear friend who was suffering from the effects of memory loss. In the days between penning that post and it going live, Peggy Lee, of Albequerque, New Mexico, suffered a stroke, and died.
I am grieving.
A girl from Oklahoma, Peggy had married her high school sweetheart, a refugee from Communist China who she met when her family was living in Singapore in the 1960s. David, who was only starting to learn English at the time, would go on to complete his M.E. in the U.S. before leading Honeywell Asia. After he retired, they returned to serve at a church in Singapore. That’s when I met Peggy and David, in 1996.
The chorus of the 1984 pop song popularized by Howard Jones asks “What is love anyway? Does anybody love anybody anyway?” Peggy answered this question with her entire being. She loved people. She loved me. She always listened, without judgment. When you hurt, she hurt. When you soared, she soared. When you messed up, she felt your pain. When you recovered, she celebrated your resilience. She didn’t show anger or vent frustration. She understood self-control is essential to trust, and trust is essential to openness, and openness allows space for love.
If she thought you were mistaken, she never rubbed your face in it. She knew that you knew, deep inside, that you were deceiving yourself. That was a sign of her belief in you. And because she believed in you, you believed in yourself. She knew that what you need in those moments is someone who can accept your imperfections while knowing you can do better. Love for her was a choice to treat people with respect, even when they were at their lowest, while quietly communicating her confidence that you could still become the person you desperately want to be.
When you lose someone like Peggy, you don’t just miss her. You wonder how you’ll get through the next thing, and the one after that. You lose your footing. So I don’t slip, I’m holding on to my memories of our time together, in Singapore, Indonesia, New Mexico, and New York. She left me more than enough good memories to know what to do when it gets tough. When I find myself churlish or bitter, cynical and impulsive, I remember: she was rock solid in a storm, strength drawn from faith, possessing an unshakeable belief in people, always seeking in people that part that yearns to be better, and gently fanning that flame into a refiner’s fire.
I miss you, Peggy. Say hi to him for me.
J