Patricia Barbour Hughes

Dear Pat,
wherever you are I wish to send you my best memories of our friendship and thank you for the opportunity to have met you. MY your journey be a very peaceful one. I have in fact searched for you over these years to reconnect. May your passage to be with God a peaceful journey. Till we meet again.

To Pat in Bali Always

Pink cheeked little girl smile
Bright blue eyes and long hair
hanging to the middle of her back
swaying, as she walks along muddy trails
beside the rice fields,
beneath the rippling blue sky,
and bowing coconut palms
and the august guardianship of Mt Agung.

In the courtyard of chickens
and noisy half naked children,
We eat our vegetables and rice
almost the same everyday, so simple
yet nothing more delicious
when washed down with a jeruk panas
or completed with special treat--
a shared banana pancake.

In the Evening we walk
to the outdoor performance,
a clearing in the jungle
lit with steady glare
of alcohol lamps, or
if we’re lucky, the dancing flames
of coconut oil.
With an arresting clang
the gamelan begins
and the magic of the night
changes color.

The dancers emerge,
flickering their fingers,
shifting their eyes from side to side
Agem kanan kiri
dipping and shivering,
gliding, glimmering
like larvae wriggling in
tightly bound costumes painted with gold.
With another clang, the performance closes
and all walk through the darker jungle,
the dogs howling hideously
as we hurry home.

In the morning, Pat bends
over her paper, painting
the landscape abstracted
to basic geometry:
The green brown grid of the rice paddies
overlaid with the soft curves
of plump blue gray clouds
reflected in the flooded fields.
And somewhere, always
A slightly darker
concentration of pigment,
The shadow of Agung.

In January 2007 Sally’s orchestra from Oberlin performed in Carnegie Hall! (Sally is a violinist). Pat was not about to miss that! She flew from SF to NYC to be present for the Friday night performance. We met in a restaurant in advance and Pat said she was feeling ill from a stomach upset. She wanted to be present for the performance though, so never wavered from that mission!
We got to the hall and Pat wanted to sit as near to an exit door as possible, in case she needed to leave in a hurry to get to the bathroom. We all enjoyed the concert, though Pat skipped the reception afterward to get back to her friend’s house in the city where she was staying. She figured she had picked up a norovirus on the plane ride. The next day she was better and we met in a museum. Her devotion to her niece was touching and we very much appreciated her determination to be there for this once-in-a-lifetime event!

Sweet Pat, your Summerfield neighbors and friends miss you! Thank you for the smiles you brought, your twinkling eyes and your dancing moves. You showed us so much, and that is to appreciate art the way you seen it. Glazing at every piece in awe! To Pat's family, we send our condolences to you all. You all were very sweet to everyone here. Thank you for letting us share this last chapter with Pat. We think of you often and always picturing sweet Babygirl around the community. It is my honor to help capture the memories of Pat. My heart is complete knowing I gave you all a few last memories of Pat through photos and videos. Take care, Love Krystle!

With heavy hearts and grateful spirits, we remember Ms. Pat Hughes, a cherished member of our Summerfield family.

Pat was a woman of quiet grace and deep warmth. Her kind words, gentle presence, and welcoming smile touched the lives of all who knew her. She brought light into every room she entered—whether through a simple conversation, a thoughtful gesture, or learning of her remarkable life.

She reminded us daily of the strength found in kindness, and the beauty of slowing down to truly connect with others.

Though her physical presence is no longer with us, her spirit lives on in the hearts of her family, her friends, and her caregivers. Her memory is woven into the fabric of our community—forever a part of who we are.

We will miss her deeply… and we will remember her always.

“What we once enjoyed and deeply loved, we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.” – Helen Keller

We were truly honored to have shared in the final chapter of Pat’s life here at our memory care community. Pat was more than a resident — she was a radiant spirit whose presence left a lasting impact on everyone she met.

Charming and full of grace, Pat had a natural warmth that filled every room. Her smile was constant, her joy for life unwavering. She found beauty in the world around her and shared that beauty with others — especially through her love of art. Whether she was creating something herself or simply admiring the colors and shapes around her, art was a language through which Pat expressed her vibrant soul.

She was a truly beautiful person, inside and out. Her kindness, creativity, and gentle strength touched the lives of both residents and staff alike.

It was a privilege to walk alongside Pat on this part of her journey. While she is deeply missed, the color and joy she brought into our community will live on in our hearts — a lasting masterpiece of love and light.
From all of us here at Summerfield of Fresno

I began working with Pat on my very first day as a licensed professional fiduciary, and from the start I knew she was a wonderfully unique individual. Like my own mother, she was captivated by the beauty of the natural world—truly delighted by it. She would pause to study the curve of a petal or catch her breath at the sight of a cloud.

Her art reflected that same sensitivity: distinctive, understated, yet powerful. Each piece revealed the workings of a mind deeply attuned to color and pattern, a quiet mastery that left a lasting impression.
Pat also had a marvelous sense of humor and a gift for laughter. She carried a lightness of spirit that invited others to join her in moments free from worry or stress. She found joy in her home, surrounding herself with meaningful objects and treasures collected from her travels.

She had an impeccable sense of style as well. Even while living with dementia, she seemed to instinctively know current trends—the cut of a pant leg, the art of layering—and she combined colors and patterns with effortless grace. She always knew what looked good on her, and she was always right.

I wish I had known Pat before dementia, yet even in the time I spent with her, I felt the gift of her presence. She was truly extraordinary, and I am grateful to have known her.

PAT HUGHES REMEMBERED (Feb. 22, 1942 - July 26, 2025)

It is sad when you anticipate a death; but when it actually happens, for me, the sadness spreads out and becomes random thoughts. This is how I am now remembering my good and long-time friend PAT HUGHES. She died on Saturday, July 26th after a month’s move to a memory care center in Fresno where she fell, hit her head, resulting in (as reported to me) a “massive brain bleed”.

She had been living in her own Bernal Heights home by herself, had daily watchful care, but she was really in need of round-the-clock attention. She was physically able and strong but had slowly lost the ability to speak in full and meaningful sentences. Her sister and a social worker finally made a decision and she moved about a month ago to be close to her niece, the other Sally.

Pat and I were good friends. I’d known her since the 1970s when we both taught for Mario Barrios at the Mission Community College Center. We were a small but tight group of evening teachers who became very close. Over the years, Pat chose to remain an ESL part-timer and at the same time, continue as an artist, because she was very talented and productive and wanted to continue working with galleries to show and sell her paintings. She also loved teaching English, and she especially enjoyed being a part of the Chinatown/North Beach Campus of the City College of San Francisco as an afternoon and evening teacher. The non-credit students related to her as a helpful and caring person, and she often shared stories of how meaningful she felt her work was.

Pat was born Patricia Barbour in Huntington, West Virginia on February 22, 1942 and lived there until after graduating from Marshall University (with a major in art and minor in French). She married the artist and fellow West Virginian, Joe Hughes, and the two moved out west to California. At one point, he was a morning host on KALW radio along with his other career, a working painter. After they divorced, Pat went to Asia and spent about two years in Bali, Thailand, and Nepal. She immersed herself in that culture and made friends whom she kept in touch with for many years. She returned for vacations and lovingly kept textiles, baskets, books, photos, and other memorabilia from those wonderful and ever-present times.

She also loved the out-of-doors and wilderness, often went tent-camping by herself in the Sierra, and spoke of those get-aways with fondness. She nurtured many plants in and around her house, loved flowers, especially those with colorfully bright blooms.

My husband Frank said she particularly liked Carlos Castaneda who wrote, “you must learn to make every act count”. And he recalls that they had some good discussions about Don Juan and magical realism.

When I realized that she was not socializing nor getting out, we would walk to the top of the Bernal Hill (behind her house), take in the gorgeous views of San Francisco, and give her the chance to greet every single dog on a leash and all the groups of dogs brought there by the hired dog-walkers. I would always have to wait and wait until she pet and talked to each one, but we both got exercise and were able to share some time together.

Pat’s house was at the top of Folsom, and she made it a habit to sit next to the view window and watch passersby and the often-present birds who’d land on the close-by trees and house tops. Another place she enjoyed sitting was in front of another window to the Bay, keeping an eye on the big container ships as they came in.

Pat was one of three sisters — Nancy (who lived in West Virginia) and Jean (who lives with husband Eric in Massachusetts). Their two daughters are Anna (who lives with her husband in Scotland) and Sally (who lives with Alex and their new daughter, Amparo, near Yosemite).

She also had a love for music and liked to listen to her tapes. Her musical taste was eclectic. She adored “gamelan” (even played in a group at one time). She liked blue grass, too; it reminded her of home. We used to go together and never missed Hardly Strictly in their once-a-year festival in Golden Gate Park. Frank, Pat, and I also used to go to the San Francisco Symphony on a regular basis. And speaking of music, Pat was one of those people who, when they listen to music, see colors. Some say that this synesthesia is a disturbing condition; Pat embraced it. One more musical note, her sister’s daughter, Sally was with her in the end; and at that time, she died peacefully hearing a Christina Rossetti poem set to music (which you can hear thanks to Eric and Jean who sent it).

Three weeks before leaving San Francisco for the memory-care facility in Fresno, Pat’s close companion Cookie, her cat, died, so that left her really alone. I’m so thankful that I was able to make phone contact with her — as good as was possible — two days before she passed. I have many wonderful memories of my friend.

I have fond memories of visiting Pat during business trips to California. Meals in eclectic Mexican restaurants in the Mission district, shopping through the Alemany Farmers Market on a Saturday morning, wandering through the Botanic Gardens in Golden Gate Park or along the beaches in San Francisco, road trips up into wine country, finishing with a peasant's picnic with bread and cheese and of course a bottle of wine. She so obviously enjoyed showing off her environment, and it was fun sharing that with her.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.