Photo by Lisa Dahm

Photo taken Aug. 6, 2004, of Peggy Chun with Kimi and Eric Chun, her daughter-in-law and son and their daughter Indiana. With ALS for two years, she had become dependent on a respirator.

A few thoughts on the parting of the bright, loving light that was Hawaii artist Peggy Chun

By Lisa Dahm | Special to the Herald

There are some people who, when they’re around, make life fun and interesting and, because of their unconditional love, make you feel blessed for having spent time with them. When they leave the room, there’s a conspicuous emptiness that makes you look forward to seeing them again.

On Nov. 19, Hawaii lost a bright, loving light with the death of artist Peggy Chun. She had been battling amyotophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease, since 2002, yet she remained vibrant, busy and an inspiration to anyone whose life she touched, until her last days.

I first met Peggy Chun on Aug. 3, 2004, when, two years into her illness, she had already begun painting with her teeth. She had lost the use of her right hand in 2003. Instead of ending her career, she simply began painting with her left hand. When that failed, she used her teeth, then later her eyes and finally the hands of her many friends.

Peggy Chun’s final major work, a portrait of Blessed Damien created with paper mosaic pieces painted by the students of Holy Trinity School under her direction, and the students’ hand prints.

From the moment I walked into her plantation-style home that day, Peggy’s upbeat personality made me feel welcome. It was like I’d found an instant friend. Instead of wallowing in her illness and closing herself off from the world, Peggy invited everyone into hers, and taught them, by example, what true courage looked like.

During a recent move, I stumbled across the tape I recorded during that first interview. Sitting alone one night, I “visited” Peggy once again. As I re-played the tape, my quiet room instantly filled with laughter and the bustling, busy and happy sounds that always filled Peggy’s house.

It was no wonder there was so much activity. Along with her dedicated family, she had a group of more than 100 faithful friends called “Pegs Legs” who took turns with her nurses giving round-the-clock, seven days a week care through the six years of her illness.

“All these people are saving my life,” she said of her friends.

It was a joy to listen to Peggy’s voice recorded more than four years ago, though it had already become strained and halting due to her respirator. Her passion and strength kept her words strong and clear, despite the raspy sound.

At the time of the interview, Peggy was working on an eight-foot-long painting of water and rocks that she created by painting squares with her teeth, which were then pasted on the canvas by her helpers. She was planning as her next project to do the same for a painting of Father Damien.

Peggy’s house was also her studio and her showroom. It was filled with her beautiful watercolors and pictures of her family. She pointed out her Hawaiian Madonna and Child on the wall behind her bed that she had created for a Sisters of St. Francis’ Christmas card. Hanging on her back wall within her view was a painting of Mother Marianne Cope.

“I painted it just before I was diagnosed,” she said.

Faith and family

Peggy told me about her connection with the Sisters of St. Francis — how she taught speech and literature at St. Francis School in Manoa when she first moved to Hawaii after college. She grew up in Oklahoma as the oldest of eight children with her twin sister Bobbie. She said she learned how to embrace life from her family, especially her mother and father who “taught us how to love.” She recalled the strength of mom’s hugs and how she made things fun, for example, by creating carnivals in the backyard.

“She just loved us and gave us every opportunity,” she said. “She always believed in us — she was amazing.”

Her mother attended daily Mass at her home parish of Blessed Sacrament Church. She also played championship golf and even had a golf tournament named after her in her home town.

Her mother died of ALS at age 50. Peggy’s grandfather also succumbed to the disease as did her twin sister, Bobbie, at 40 years old. It was Bobbie who was originally the artist. Peggy began painting six months after her sister’s death.

I asked Peggy about her faith — how it fits into her life.

“There is no way to do this without it,” she answered. “I don’t know how you could live.”

Around Peggy’s room was a collection of St. Padre Pio items, a St. Michael icon, pictures of St. Francis and St. Therese of Lisieux and quotes from Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She said that she loved the saints and could feel their presence.

“Sometimes the room is full of them. All you have to do is ask.”

Peggy said that she had conversations with God everyday and that she tried to “make a lot of deals” with him.

“The best ones are when I let go and I’m thankful,” Peggy told me. “(When I say) ‘This is great.’ ‘Thank you for that visit.’ ‘Thank you for my darling son and daughter-in-law.’”

If she got depressed or anxious she would “surround everything with a white light.”

“I think, ‘just relax.’ You learn to take life minute by minute.”

One lesson she learned from her disease was that she had to allow people to do things “their way.” It was difficult at first.

“It is all about letting go and letting go of control,” she said.

One benefit of having ALS, she said, was being able to stay home and paint and enjoy her family and friends.

“I never had time for any of these things — never, ever. I was too busy.”

Peggy said she also learned how to cry. She never cried before ALS. She found it healing.

“You never know when you are going to die, so we should all be ready,” she said.

“I feel like a huge hypocrite saying that because I’m not ready,” she added. “There’s too much to do.”

Shelly Mecum, one of “Pegs Legs,” and an author and a teacher at Holy Trinity School, Kuliouou, helped bring to reality Peggy’s desire to paint Father Damien. With instructions from Peggy, Shelly organized the students from Holy Trinity to paint hundreds of the small paper squares which would become a mosaic image of the Belgian priest. Peggy’s love of teaching changed the lives of the students. She completed the work with the help of an artist friend from Poland.

Peggy even toured with Mecum to promote “The Watercolor Cat,” a children’s book Shelly wrote about Peggy that featured the artist’s work.

An act of courage

Peggy stressed the need to have courage, especially in painting or in writing, because both invite critics.

“Painting is an act of courage,” she said. “That’s why I was always proud of my students.”

“It is o.k. to be terrified,” Peggy said. “We have just as much fear in us as hope, so we have to learn not to act out of a dark side.”

Peggy told me she got her courage from “humor and total irreverence.”

“You just can’t take life seriously, especially yourself,” she said.

She would never paint anything depressing, she said. For her, it was important to paint beauty.

“I love it — I see it everywhere. There is just so much to paint. My work is getting much more abstract, but they are still full of color.”

I was able to visit Peggy several times over the next few years, and each time, the house was filled with visitors. Peggy spent time with each person, no matter how difficult it was for her to communicate. Her messages were always reassuring, upbeat and positive. Despite everything, there was a sparkle in her beautiful eyes that made you feel welcome and loved, even when she could move nothing else.

From Peggy I’ve learned that it is important to love the people around you, to take time to listen to them, to make them feel welcomed and loved, to cherish family and friends.

She taught me to “believe in miracles” which she said were happening all around us, and to make every moment of each day count. Her biggest lesson was to grasp the courage to try new things and to pursue boldly the dreams that are stored in your heart, waiting to be realized.

I am sure that Peggy is among her friends the saints right now and that she had as beautiful a welcome into heaven as she gave to every person who entered her home. I’m also sure she was greeted with, “Well done, my good and faithful friend.”