Sylvia Diane Miles was born on February 5th, 1935, in Boston, MA to William David Miles and Gladys (Satterwhite) Miles. She was the middle child of five, book-ended by her older brothers, David and Quentin, and her younger sisters, Patricia and June, all of whom she outlived but never stopped cherishing.

Despite childhood illnesses like scarlet and rheumatic fever, Sylvia often spoke fondly of her youth growing up in a small Roxbury apartment in the Lenox Street Projects. It was a humble place and Gladys made sure it was filled with the warmth of family and life-long friends; a quality Sylvia carried with her throughout every stage of her life.

While she was still young herself, she was married to James Mendes, Sr. and became mother to two boys, David and Jimmy.  Sadly, both sons passed before her. And yet, even in grief, Sylvia remained strong and devoted, carrying their memory in her heart every day.

Sylvia worked at Polaroid for many years and eventually worked her way up to Supervisor and then Manager of Mail Services.  She became the first Woman in the country assigned to a committee to streamline and establish a uniform system of zip codes for the entire country.  It was also at Polaroid where fate brought her and her beloved Glen together. But, as it turns out, their story started much earlier. As children, Sylvia would visit the laundromat Glen's father owned, where Glen himself worked. Rumor has it, the family elders saw something back then; a spark, a match; and they were right. Eventually, they fell in love, and for more than 50 years, they shared a life so intertwined that it is hard to speak of one without the other.

Sylvia and Glen had a son in 1963, Anthony.  In 1970 they bought a home in Dorchester. A house big enough to hold the whole family. Sylvia, Glen, her mother Gladys, her boys David, Jimmy, and Tony, a cat named Snoopy, and a dog named Cato; it was full, it was lively, it was love. That home became a haven for large family celebrations and visits, for friends to drop-in and share news and tell stories, for incredible food, and for anyone who needed a seat at the table or a place to rest. Sylvia's devotion to family and close friends was unwavering. She cared for her mother until the end of her life. She cared for Glen until the end of their days together. And she cared deeply for all her boys.

Sylvia absolutely loved her grandson, James III, and adored her Great grandchildren Messiah, Lacey, and Carmen.  She loved hearing her son David tell news about her granddaughter, Denisha. The loss of her granddaughter, Taylor Chase in 1999 was especially hard on her, but once again she handled it with grace and dignity.

All through the years, Sylvia spent a lot of time with her many nieces, nephews, great nieces, and great nephews – they all have special stories about time spent with her. But, Nikki, Tiffiny, Celeste, and Simone held a deeply special place in her heart.  She often spoke of them with pride and reverence for all the great times they shared. Sylvia loved to travel. Whether it was jumping on a plane to Morocco with her lifelong friend Gail, flying to Jamaica with Glen, or going on a cruise with family, she was always up for an adventure. Some of her favorite trips, though, were closer to home—heading to the casinos with her sisters, June, Patsy, and their dear friend Margo, who became an honorary Miles sister; always included in whatever plots the Miles sisters got up to. And while Sylvia was famously known for getting lost, that never stopped her from hopping in the car for road trips to Connecticut, New York, Providence, or Baltimore.

Sylvia was also a spectacular cook. She took boundless joy in preparing large meals for family and friends—whether it was for the holidays, birthday parties, special celebrations, or simply a cozy Sunday dinner. Even when the whole family couldn't be there, she made sure dinner was ready for whoever was. And through it all, one constant remained: she and Glenn shared dinner together nearly every single night for the entire time they were together. Jazz was Sylvia's best loved music. Her favorites were Nancy Wilson, Sara Vaughn, Nina Simone, Billy Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald. She and Glen enjoyed attending jazz concerts and were known to cut a rug and were affectionately known as "Twinkle Toes" (Glen) and "Smiles" (Sylvia).

For most of her life, Sylvia was not one to seek the spotlight, but as she grew older, something shifted. Maybe it was her channeling more and more of her beloved mother Gladys, or of her more outgoing siblings, Tinny, Patsy and June. In her last years, she began to shine. She became, in many ways, the life of the party. Her doctors adored her. Her caregivers adored her. Her neighbors in her apartment building adored her. "Hi, Sylvia!" they'd call out. She, always would wave and smile right back, then turn to her family and whisper, "Who's that?" It is a moment that tells you everything about her: gracious, grounded, and full of humor, even when the world changed around her.

Sylvia believed that family should always be there for family. She lived that belief every day. She was the heart of her home, the center of her family, and in many ways, the soul of our shared story. As the last living member of the Gladys household, she carried not just memories, but traditions, lessons, and love forward for the rest of us.

Sylvia Diane Costa was a woman whose presence was quiet, dignified and powerful, whose kindness ran deep, and whose love created a home for many.  She gave us warmth. She gave us wisdom. She gave us a place to belong. And now, even though she is no longer with us in body, she is with us in the meals we share, in laughter at a family gathering, in the quiet acts of care that ripple forward through the lives she touched.

Let us remember Sylvia (Ma, Aunty, Gramma Sylvia), as she would want us to remember her: for her generosity, her stories, and the joy she brought into our lives. And, especially for the strength and dignity she always displayed, throughout her entire life.

Thank you, Sylvia. We love you. We miss you. We'll see you again.