Sunny Butler was fearless and defiant facing the specter of cancer and shadow of death. She found sanctuary and peace in a most unusual way — dancing on stage.
“Every time Sunny stepped on stage, it was just magic,” said her close friend and Southern soul sister Debra Heath-Strickland. Strickland said Lloyde (Sunny) Lumpkin Butler died peacefully on Sunday.
There was little peace for Sunny over the past year. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 2012. After surgeries and chemotherapy, Sunny thought she beat the disease. She was cancer-free for 17 months. Then, in 2014, the cancer returned.
“My doctor said: ‘We can’t cure you, but we can buy you time,’” Sunny told me last November. “I don’t know how many days I have left, but I’m not going to waste any of them.”
Sunny made the most out of the precious, fleeting commodity of time – especially the decade she lived in The Villages. After a couple of failed marriages, she found true love with another Villager named Bob Christy. They met at Cody’s and spent the last five years together.
“I had a lot of problems with marriages and partners, but this time I got it right,” Sunny told me. “When I got sick, I told Bob he didn’t have to give up his life to go through this with me. He told me: ‘You are my life. We’ll go through this together.”
Sunny – the mother of three children: Louis, Cary and Betsy — had a way of touching people’s hearts. Especially dancers.
As a little girl growing up in Virginia, she dreamed of being a Rockette and dancing at Radio City Music Hall. She was too short, at 5-feet 2 inches tall.
But dreams have a way of coming true in The Villages. Heath-Strickland was co-director and driving force behind “The Christmas Spectacular.” The local production was performed in December at Savannah Center. It featured Christmas songs and dance routines.
Heath-Strickland knew and danced with Sunny for about 8 years and offered her a spot in the show.
Sunny was going through experimental cancer treatment. She was often weak and sick. The Christmas Spectacular had a grueling rehearsal schedule. Many of the dancers practiced 3 and 4 days a week. Some were working on the project for over a year.
That didn’t stop Sunny.
With typical grit, the diminutive, attractive and tough Southern Belle, attacked the dance project and became part of a high-kicking chorus line.
“I remember, she was going through treatment and pretty sick, but she always showed up for rehearsal,” said Cathye Leshay, also a dancer in the show. “She willed herself to dance and never wavered. Sometimes, Sonny was so sick she would throw up. We used to put a bucket on each side of her, in case she threw up.”
Linda “Bert” Berthiaume, was dance captain and co-director of the “Spectacular,” which included over 100 Villagers.
“I would tell her to take it easy and stay home, but Sonny would come to every single rehearsal,” Berthiaume said. “We were amazed and inspired to see her there every day. She always smiled. She would tell us how happy she was to be with us.”
I remember the first day I met Sunny last November. I watched her in rehearsal and she moved with grace and agility. She would kick her legs high and twist, and twirl with the other dancers.
After Sunny left the dance floor, a change took place. She seemed tired and frail. Being out there with the dancers, making the moves and following the steps, transformed her in a remarkable way.
“When Sunny was on stage and dancing, she never felt pain,” said Helene Yelverton, one of the most respected choreographers in The Villages and Sunny’s friend. “It’s like a football player who gets injured in a game. You love the game so much, you stay out there and keep playing. Then, when the game’s over, you feel the pain. Sunny was a remarkable dancer and human being.”
Cathye Lashay agreed.
“Sunny was so tough and so determined, we were in awe of her.”
Heath-Strickland could be a demanding co-director but was always impressed by Sunny’s effort.
“Everytime we see her at rehearsal, she motivates us,” Heath-Strickland told me in November. “She is full of energy and she always smiles. When we see her smiling and happy; we’re happy. It’s amazing. Sunny has a way of letting us know what really matters.
“It’s not about what we do for her but what she does for us. She keeps us up, and she keeps us going.”
Sunny loved being a part of the show and working with Heath-Strickland.
“Debra has been like an angel sent from heaven for me,” Butler said. “She’s helped me be a part of this and it keeps me going. I want to set an example for others going through what I’m going through. This is a way to do it.”
The “Spectacular” was scheduled for the first week in December, and Sunny was having physical problems. A few weeks before the show, she was ordered to have complete bedrest. No one knew if she would make it.
Then, on opening night, there was Sunny.
I was stunned watching her. She not only held her own with the other dancers, she was kicking her legs higher than ever. I couldn’t quite believe it.
“That’s just Sunny being Sunny,” Heath-Strickland told me then. Later, Heath-Strickland said in an email: “She could still kick her legs over her head 37 times in a row while fighting cancer.”
I caught up with an exhausted but exhilarated Sunny Butler after the opening night performance.
“I’m so grateful to be here tonight, I keep thanking God that I made it and I am a part of this,” Butler told me. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to be on that stage with these people. I kept saying, ‘God, please let me make it to this show.’ It means so much to me.”
Well, next thing I know it’s late January and I go to a Music in Motion rehearsal for a February dance show. I see Sunny Butler out on the dance floor, jumping and dancing just like before.
She looked thin and weak.
“Are you OK Sunny?” I asked her.
“I’m not feeling well, but I’m glad to be here,” she said, flashing that irresistible smile. Sunny, despite her illness, was remarkably attractive.
A few weeks later, in February, I saw her on the Savannah Center stage, dancing a circus number in the Music In Motion “Magique” show.
That was the last time I saw Sunny.
I know Sunny loved theater, dancing and the fantasy escape it provides. I bet when Sunny was a kid, like me, she watched Mary Martin in “Peter Pan” on television.
Captain Hook poisons the fairy Tinkerbell and she seems to be dead. But Peter tells us we can bring Tinkerbell back to life.
“She’s going to die unless we do something,” Peter pleads into the TV screen. “Clap your hands! Clap your hands and say, ‘I believe in fairies!'”
I, like most kids back then, started clapping and Tinkerbell came back to life.
I know, it’s just a television show from long ago but maybe there is magic in believing in fairies and also dancers.
I do know this: something truly magical happened when Sunny Butler stepped on stage. She believed in the power of dance and the human spirit. For Sunny, the pain was overcome by the joy of artistic creativity.
Dancing was more powerful than cancer.
Now, Sunny Butler is gone.
But I still clap my hands for everything she taught us and what she represented.
You see, I still believe in Sunny.