Peter and Karen: Tragedy in South Florida. By Geniusofdespair

Peter loved life. He biked most days to the ocean - went for a swim before riding back home. He and his wife Karen had motorcycles which they rode to concerts and plays. They were both avid windsurfers on Rickenbacker Causeway - that is how I met them - now they are both dead.

Their story is so sad. I have to start with, I didn't really like them all that much: Karen was too quiet for my taste and hard to hold a conversation with. She never started a conversation with me, I struggled to engage her in one. She was an attractive thin blond from England with a remote personality. Peter was more charming, he was a short but solid balding guy, not unattractive, with a smile from ear-to-ear. He would talk about anything and he sometimes was boastful with his know-it-all demeanor. But he was smart and funny and did have good stories. They had an annoying parrot in their home in Victoria Park that would invade my personal space landing on me, clawing into my shoulder, as they watched amused at their pets wretched behavior. I hated going to their home except to see the cute Schipperke dog that I really did like. I mostly ran into them on the beach (photo above) and shared moments with them there. Peter was an adventure-seeker taking long solo sailing trips in his native Canada where he once held a high government official post. He loved sailing in stormy conditions with high seas. His latrine was a bucket on his boat, he said because it had no moving parts to fix. In Miami he taught at-risk youth, introducing them to opera and other passions of his. Karen also was an opera buff and an attorney. From the outside looking in, they were the most happy of couples. Peter's aunt died leaving him a few hundred thousand dollars and the first thing he did was buy Karen a Miata and some beautiful jewelry.

About three years after I met them Peter came down with throat cancer. Yes he smoked an occasional cigar but it was never excessive. Karen nursed him through his treatments. He was in remission and went to France and bought a Villa. They were both giddy with happiness over the purchase. About the same time Karen tried to kill herself. I found out then that she was a closet bi-polar sufferer. Peter found her half-dead and tried to help by sending her to a facility. She came out with a new sense of joy. A month later she checked into a motel and did finally kill herself. At the memorial service Peter hugged me and whispered in my ear, "I am so angry. I am a dying man, what am I going to do?" A few months later Peter did die.

It was such a sad end to a couple. Did Karen do it because she couldn't face the reality of what was to come? Did her actions stress him to such an extent to hasten his demise? No matter speculating - they are both dead and no one remembers them much.

The Schipperke, and the parrot went somewhere. My friend inherited a sexton -- a woman Peter met briefly when selling the Miata got the extent of his estate. Peter's windsurfers were too low tech to have any value. It is six years since Peter and Karen died and nothing remains of them but a memory, a very sad memory that still haunts me.