Michael Staton, 67, died Sunday, September 19th, 2021 at Jim and Betsy Bryan Hospice Home of UNC Health Care in Pittsboro, NC.

He was born May 28, 1954 in Thomasville, NC to late parents Jessie Staton Sr. and Sarah May (Babycakes) Staton.

In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by three brothers: James Staton, Milton Staton and Jessie Staton Jr.; and sister Barbara Jackson.

Michael was a retired Medical Sales Representative specializing in EP in the Charlotte area until his retirement in 2012. After his retirement, he relocated to Durham, NC. Michael was a Veteran of the United States Air Force, a loyal Pittsburgh Steelers and UNC Tarheel fan. He loved to cook out on the grill and travel. He was also a fan of Motown music and discovering new technology. Michael was a devoted family man and enjoyed spending time with friends and family.

Michael is survived by: Wife LaVetta Staton; Brothers: Thomas (Debbie) Staton Covington, VA; and Kenneth Staton Thomasville, NC; Sister: Pam Staton; Daughter: Latasha (Allen) Dejournette High Point, NC. Grand Children: Deja Spooney Mebane, NC; Caleb, Aria, Lydia, Malcolm, Maya, Queen, Shie and Cam, Jayden, Tre. Great Grandchild: Jamari Hairston High Point, NC. A Nephew whom he was close with: Christopher Staton. And a number of other Nieces, Nephews, Cousins and many friends that loved him dearly.

"The Work" by Montford Holley

The gavel sounds and all is still: The Master speaks, proclaims his will: Each one obeys, takes up his tools. Inspects the plan, consults the rules: With trowel and level, plumb and square, Each stone is set exactly where The plan provides, the drawing shows And day by day the Temple grows: The porch is finished, pillars placed; The strands of net-work interlaced; The chambers furnished, pavement laid, The sacred vessels all displayed: The walls are standing straight and true; The roof is on, the labor through: The Master speaks, The work is done: The gavel sounds, God calls us home.

Crossing the Bar BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.