The Sunrise Suite

My dear friend Ingrid who died of cancer in April of 2009 was amazing in so many ways. She had a knack for finding hidden gems to explore during extended weekend adventures. For years she tried to turn me on to Cedar Key, a little island in the Gulf of Mexico due west of Gainesville, Florida. I never made it there until after she died.

"There's only one place to stay in Cedar Key," Ingrid used to tell me as I joked that she was being paid by their Visitor's Bureau. And then she proceeded to pimp out the Cedar Key Bed and Breakfast as the sweetest, most charming place in Florida.

When I met Bill and Alice--the owners of Cedar Key Bed and Breakfast--in the summer of 2009, I told them that Ingrid had sent me. They were sad to hear the news about her death. They knew the world was at a loss without her.

I felt Ingrid's persuasive words about the place follow me during our stay. The Sunrise Suite, her favorite accommodation at the B & B and our choice as well, had long windows that opened up to the Gulf, welcoming the water and the sky into the sun porch and the living room. You can't imagine the view from the bedroom.

I enjoyed talking with Bill and Alice about their lives during that trip with Husband and D-Man, and when I returned in the Fall with a group of women for a girls' weekend, it was easy to feel like we were picking up where we left off.  There was a lot of hope and light in those brief conversations. 

Bill had discovered a cancerous tumor on his leg earlier in the year, but with some experimental treatments in Mexico, he was cured and so grateful for the bill of good health. We talked about it during both of my visits.

Yesterday I called to make a reservation for the Sunrise Suite for a long weekend in March. When a young girl answered the phone, I asked if Bill and Alice were still running the place.

"Just Miss Alice," the girl said. "Bill died of cancer in December."

The sound of her words kept churning and amplifying like a singing bowl. I was thinking about how Alice was holding up, about whether Bill suffered, about why he couldn't be helped.

No matter how many times I'm jolted with the news of death, I seem to quickly lose touch with the fact that life is too short to get caught up in the minutia of meaningless details. I want to hold on to that. I want to be wiser and stop letting people take my power who are not worthy of it. I want to laugh more, take myself less seriously, and never miss an opportunity to be the person I am.  And I want that for all of us.

We're all so much like Ingrid, we just don't know it. She was 100% authentic, 100% of the time.

Today I imagine her kicking back in the Sunrise Suite with Bill, looking out at the Gulf, sipping a margarita and sending love to those who are still here in the world.