Susan Silverton

Shortly after midnight on May 11, 2026 we lost our dear mother, Susan Fern Silverton, after a long battle with a rare neurodegenerative disorder – corticobasal syndrome. The oldest of three daughters of Sam and BB Colodny, Susan was a violin player, a voracious reader who could finish a novel in a day (and often read in French to slow herself down), and a lover of the outdoors. Her mother wanted her to be a librarian because of her affinity for books, but instead she won a scholarship to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the early 1960s and got a degree in Chemistry at a time when there were only 20 women in her entire class.

At MIT she met Samuel Silverton and they got married in 1966 after Susan returned from a 1-year Fulbright Scholarship in France. Sue and Sam settled in Montreal, Quebec, where Sue obtained a PhD in Biochemistry, followed by medical school at McGill University.  Interviewing for medical school with two small children at home, Sue was asked why she should be given a spot for medical training when she would likely just quit to raise her family. It was experiences like this that shaped formidable Sue's personality and drive.

After a long career as an endocrinologist and researcher, Sue transitioned into academic administration, which took her to jobs in Las Vegas, NV and Sudbury, Ontario. Then finally, in her mid-sixties, Sue retired from academic medicine and joined Sam in running the family business.  In 2008 they moved to Salt Lake City to be closer to their daughters, Natalie and Anitra and their young families.  Here Sue could truly enjoy her love of the outdoors, hiking and skiing in the Wasatch Mountains.  In her long life she traveled the world, from Alaska to Mongolia, India, New Zealand, and Europe. These were the things she loved, and corticobasal syndrome took them away one by one.  Years ago, she stopped being able to play the violin.  She could no longer ride a bike or hike in the mountains because the disease severely affected her balance. Six months ago, she stopped reading novels because she could no longer turn the pages. A month ago, she was no longer able to walk.  She faced all these losses with bravery and her usual determination. A week ago, she was no longer able to swallow food.  Two days before she died, she could no longer speak.

She left behind a science fiction novel series that she had spent years developing and writing.  She left behind a stack of French novels unread on her desk.  She left behind two sisters, two daughters, and a husband who loved her dearly and misses her daily.  Sixteen minutes after Mother's Day, she let go of a body that took her to amazing places to do amazing things, but could no longer serve her brilliant mind.  It is hard to put into words how much she will be missed.