She was born Sylvia Ann Barton. To the world just another name given to a common baby girl, born in a common little town, to common parents. But to those that knew her she was far from common, she was extraordinary. She was privileged to be born the daughter of Buster and Meta Barton, parents of principle who embodied love and wisdom in their daily lives. They imparted their values in their children which laid, not only the foundation for mom's character, but the core ideals that would become the focus of her life; family. As a teenager she suffered the loss of her younger brother Travis, after losing his long battle with leukemia. She never really spoke with her feelings over the loss, choosing instead to remember the good times and the love they shared. But there were two things Travis’ death left her with, and she stressed them to her kids. Never let the Sun go down on your anger, and cherish your loved ones every moment of every day. Growing up in our house you learned that mom was no pushover. She was as kind and gentle as our grandmother, but as firm as our grandfather when needed. Whether her hand was encouraging or correcting, it was her desire for us to honor the principles she had learned from her parents that guided her. Mom was the quintessential 60s housewife, and looking back at the things she juggled, you couldn't help but marvel at her. If one of her kids was involved in an activity, she was involved in it as well. From Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts, sports, PTA meetings and clubs, mom balanced them all. Somewhere in between those activities, between helping with homework and managing housework, between the bills, the appointments, and the errands, she made the time for the little things that she could have accomplished with much less effort, but with much less devotion. We didn't wear store-bought costumes at Halloween or school plays. Mom learned to sew. She would measure us, shop for the perfect materials, then tailor the most magnificent costumes herself. We didn't have store-bought cakes on our birthday's. Mom took a cake decorating class and made them herself. She had so much cake stuff you would've thought our kitchen was a bakery. And she could make cake look like anything she wanted, all 40 years before anyone had ever heard of the Cake Boss. But that's just the way mom was. It meant more to her if she could pour a little bit of herself into what she did for us, and she cherished the same from us. Whenever asked what she would like for her birthday, or Christmas, she always said," anything as long as you make it for me yourself". And going through her things you would find the notes we had written, and the little gifts we had made for her, packed away in her cedar chest like a treasure. Mom had a way of making the mundane exciting, like the S&H Green stamps gatherings. She would sit us around the table, each with a glass of Kool-Aid, piles of those stamps, and stacks of empty books. We loved filling those books, and the trip to the S&H Green stamp store was just as fun, at least until we found out mom was getting a vacuum cleaner or something. But it never stopped us from wanting to fill those books the next time. She was our mother but she was so much more, she was also our friend. She was the safe place we could go to with our dreams, frustrations, and even our failures. No matter what we faced, she was there with comforting arms and words of advice, letting us know we didn't face it alone. Mom had her own dreams and desires, but she put them aside while she nurtured ours. We always had what we needed, and most often had what we wanted. In all things she put her family first. As a daughter she obeyed her parents, as a wife she honored her husband, as a mother and grandmother she nurtured her children, and as a friend she supported those she knew. And in all these relationships she thought of others before herself. If she were able to stand before you today she would be the first to admit that she was far from perfect. She faced the same frustrations, anxieties and disappointments that we all face. She didn't have the perfect answer to every situation, and she didn't always respond in the best way possible. But she could stand before you and say that she carried a perfect love inside her. A love that guided her and compelled her to try to see to the needs of others, before turning to her own. And anyone who knew her would agree. Never let the Sun go down on your anger, and cherish your loved ones every moment of every day she would tell us. I used to think that just meant don’t part with a loved one in anger, you might not get the chance to make amends later. It wasn't until a few days after mom was gone that I really began to understand what she meant. The last time we were all together was a couple of weeks before she died. It was her birthday and she spent it with her kids, and so many other family members. When the day ended we parted in love, we told her we would see her again soon, and kissed her goodbye. But even if we had parted on unfavorable terms, the years we spent with her would've assured us of her love, just as she would've felt the same assurance of ours. Mom hadn't spent years trying to warn us about some" roulette wheel ending", where every parting, good or bad, might land on our last day together. I believe she was trying to tell us to cherish the relationships we have, every moment that we have them. To make sure that we express our hearts openly, and that nothing is taken for granted, because one day that relationship would be lost to us. So here we are, left with a simple idea that mom carried with her all her life. Cherish your loved ones while you can. If this was the only thought she had left us with, it would offer little comfort in the wake of losing our relationship with her. But mom knew something else that she stressed to us. Mom knew God. She knew that her life was created for eternity, and that the death of her body was nothing more than the shedding of a cocoon. It's been said that the cocoon sees only its death, while the butterfly sees only its birth. And just as the beauty of a butterfly outshines its former self, mom now walks the streets of heaven in a body free from the afflictions that plagued her for so many years. We can find comfort when we imagine her standing unaided in a place so wondrous that no eye has seen, nor ear has heard, nor mind has conceived. We can take heart when we picture her laughing with Travis, or walking alongside him matching his every step. When tears fall because of her parting, temper them with a smile for the memory she left behind. And remember that while we mourn our loss, her parents, brother, and all the loved ones that passed before, celebrate their gain. And we can remind ourselves that one day we will see her again.