An Arcata resident was swept out to sea in Puerto Rico on Monday.

Lyza Marie Padilla Coreano, 34, was hit by a 12-foot wave in the Reserva Natural Cueva del Indio in the Arecibo municipality on the north coast of Puerto Rico. She was with two other people, according to the Coast Guard; one made it back to shore, and the other was found dead during a search that covered 850 square miles. Padilla is still missing and is presumed dead. 

“The Coast Guard made the extremely difficult decision to suspend our active search tonight,” said search and rescue mission coordinator Matthew Romano in a written statement. “We extend our most heartfelt condolences to the families and hope they find strength and closure during this most difficult time….This is a stark reminder to be ever vigilant while planning activities in and near the water, especially during rough sea conditions.”

Padilla played the bass guitar in the local cumbia band Makenu. Her death leaves an unbridgeable gap, her bandmates told the Outpost in a group interview.

“People will remember her as a person who inspired a lot of people, especially when we were playing,” Makenu vocalist Jaime Pierola said. “I heard a lot of friends of mine — women — who used to say, like, ‘Oh my god, I want to be her friend. I want to sing like her. I want to learn how to play the bass.’ She inspired a lot of people as a musician. [Those closest] to her will remember her as a happy person.”

Padilla was originally from Puerto Rico and moved to Humboldt in the mid-2010s. She joined Makenu when the band was founded two years ago. She was an accomplished musician — for a period, she studied at the Conservatory of Music of Puerto Rico — as well as an incessant performer. She played bass and sang for not only Makenu, but also Soul Trip, Phosphorous, the salsa group Tropiqueño, and Brett McFarland and the Freedom Riders. Makenu bandmate Daniel Nickerson estimated she played almost 60 gigs in Humboldt County last year alone. Padilla could keep large bands chugging along smoothly (Tropiqueño’s roster is large enough to take up a whole stage), even when dealing with the outsize egos that sometimes accompany the job. Makenu bandmate Johana Batera told the Outpost that Padilla was talented enough that she could have had that kind of self-importance; she chose humility instead. She could make people feel understood and heard, even when they were angry.

Padilla. From her Instagram.

Pierola said when they met he felt incredibly lucky to have her in the band, both for her skill with a bass and for her presence. She had something that made people want to be around her, be with her, Pierola said; the ease with which she could lay down a bassline, glue the other members of the band together was simply a bonus. Padilla — Lyza, her friends called her — could talk and play for hours. Several of them said that their memories of her, the ones they return to time and time again, will be the simple ones when they’d sit around with a few drinks and jam and chat all night. 

She was a linchpin in the local Puerto Rican community; she invited many of her friends to visit Humboldt, and many ended up sticking around. She was a proud Puerto Rican, eager to talk about “her island” and share its music. 

“Lyza was pure light,” David Belmar said. Belmar is a guitarist for the local band Pichea and had known Padilla for years. “She was happiness. She was, I think, the true definition of a Puerto Rican woman. She’s a very hard working soul. She always took care of everyone. She is very talented. She’s very alive. I never saw her sad — nunca la vi triste, siempre la vi sonriendo. I always see her smiling. We all can learn a little bit from her, and we just hope that everything turns out how it needs to turn out.”

She fixed things for money, made her own clothes and sewed bikinis, and grew dozens of plants. Some she gave away (“A lot of people have her children around town,” Tropiqueño singer Rocío Cristal said), some filled her house, and many put down roots on her old Corolla’s dashboard, so many it was hard to see her when she drove it. She decorated everything, her friends said; her house was bejeweled with handmade tile mosaics, and she added flourishes to her clothing. 

Her friends say it will be impossible to forget Padilla. She had no equals. 

“I kind of feel like she wouldn’t want us to be sad,” Belmar said in a group interview with several friends and fellow musicians. “She’d want us to go, like, do something with our hands. Go build something. Go garden. Go make something.”

“That’s what I’m thinking about,” Nickerson replied. 

It was a long time until any of them spoke again.