After a lengthy illness from a previous stroke, Barbara Anne Mugleston Orton passed from this life into the next, into the loving arms of our Heavenly Father and other waiting souls. They are surely having a joyous reunion. She passed on Wednesday, December 3, 2025, at the Stonehenge Care Facility in Cedar City, Utah. The family is very appreciative of the professional, loving care she received there.
Barbara was born April 9, 1939, in Salt Lake City, Utah. Her parents were Louis Wetzel Mugleston and Maurine Kinghorn. Barbara was the oldest of seven children and was a loving, kind, oldest sister. She attended Emerson Elementary school, Roosevelt Jr. High, and East High School. She continued her education at Utah State University with an emphasis on music . Barbara was an excellent violinist and before her marriage was preparing to audition for the Utah Symphony.
Barbara spent her teenage years working in the summers to pay for school. She picked beans in Logan, sold deer permits in Monticello with her mother, and other various jobs.
She painted beautiful murals on the walls of her rooms. She had a talent in composing music and poetry. Barbara was fun, kind, patient, unselfish to a fault, had many friends growing up, and was a joy to be with. She lovingly cared for her younger siblings. She loved her dogs. She made wonderful spudnuts.
Barbara met her future husband, Bob Orton, while working in Monticello. They were married November 28, 1959, and have lived in Panguitch continuously for 66 years. Barbara worked for Mrs. O’Connor at the Hiway 89 Lodge. She also worked for the Forest Service. She then became the accountant and bookkeeper for the family business, Bob Orton Trucking, for the rest of her years.
Barbara may be best remembered for her beautiful violin solos at many many funerals in Panguitch. She felt that a funeral was a sacred church service and should be attended by all. With her violin music, she loved to be able to honor those who had passed away.
Barbara and Bob have five children: Carolyn Alvey, (Richfield), Richard (deceased), Mark Orton (Laurie)(Tropic), Dale Orton (Cedar City), and Merry (deceased); 11 grandchildren; 17 great-grandchildren.
Barbara has six siblings: Nina Ownby (Darrell), Rolla, Missouri; Kathleen Fetzer (dec.) (Richard-dec); Janet Preece (Donald-dec), Kaysville; David Mugleston (Carol-dec)Layton; Margaret Clark (Arthur), Panguitch Lake; Shirley Morrill, Cedar City.
Funeral Services were held Monday, December 8, 2025, at the Panguitch 2nd ward, in Panguitch, Utah. A viewing was held at the church: 11 AM to 12:30 PM. Funeral services followed at 1:00 PM. Interment was at the Panguitch Cemetery. Arrangements were made with Mosdell Mortuary.
You are invited to watch the services through the Zoom link below.
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/88358377446?pwd=YaEM2i6VW8sM46tIIiiPv3aFY0bY0g.1
Carolyn and family I am so deeply sorry to learn of your
Mother’s passing just nearly. My love and hugs for you and your family.
I loved Barbara from the time I moved to Panguitch in 1992. Our love of music and her talent on the violin and me on the organ, were blessed to accompany many times for funerals etc. She will be missed!
Mother,
There are words I have held inside for a lifetime — words I was too afraid to speak, too loyal to admit, too young to understand. I’m writing them now because I need to set them down. I need to stop carrying what was never mine.
Growing up, I learned early that your voice could lift or break me, and too often it broke me. You told me I didn’t deserve things. You told me I could have been aborted. You told me not to come, not to be there, not to exist in the spaces you occupied. I didn’t know how to make sense of that as a child. I only knew how to believe you.
I spent years apologizing for things I didn’t do, shrinking myself so I wouldn’t take up space, trying to earn a love that should never have required earning. I thought if I were quieter, better, easier, maybe you would see me. Maybe you would want me.
But now, as a woman, I can finally understand something the little girl in me never could:
your words were never a reflection of my worth.
They were a reflection of your pain.
I don’t write this to blame you. I write it because I need to tell the truth — for myself. I wish you had seen me for who I was, not for the burden you feared I might be. I wish you had spoken to me with the tenderness you showed the world. I wish you had let me feel like I belonged to you.
And yet, despite everything, I loved you. I tried. I kept showing up even when you told me not to. I kept hoping for a softness that never came. I kept forgiving you long before I understood why.
I still forgive you.
Not because what happened was small, but because I refuse to let it define the rest of my life. I forgive you because I want peace. I forgive you because the girl I once was deserves to breathe without the weight of your words pressing on her chest.
You are gone now, and I am left with the echoes. But I am learning to let them fade. I am learning to speak to myself with the kindness I never heard from you. I am learning that I was worthy all along — worthy of love, of gentleness, of belonging.
This letter is not a goodbye to you.
It is a goodbye to the pain.
A goodbye to the shame.
A goodbye to the belief that I was ever anything less than enough.
I am your daughter.
But I am finally my own.
Carolyn