Sydney's was a very gentle, yet strong soul.  Despite the horrors she endured through the course of her illness, rarely did she complain.  She adored animals and nature, and found beauty in things that most people fail to notice.  She was also stubborn as a mule.  When she and her dad would wrestle, he would hold her down and tell her he wouldn't let go until she said that he was the best dad in the whole wide universe.  I don't recall her giving in once, just out of principle.  Once she made her mind up about something, no one was going to change it.  

Sydney was very artistic, as she loved to draw, paint, and do crafts.  She painted a beautiful pitcher for me that she worked on tirelessly for weeks in her hospital bed, which she gave to me on my birthday just ten days before she passed.  And she was sharp as a tack.  Even while heavily medicated on morphine for pain, she didn't fail to notice her papa's many attempts at cheating during a game of Pokemon Monopoly.  She loved Beanie Babies, and had a collection that totaled over 130.

In addition to conventional prayer, I tried meditation, and even a healing mantra I read about in a book.  Sydney would sometimes join me, reciting that mantra.  I was impressed by her interest in it, given that the mantra was in Sanskrit and was fourteen words long!  But she was always open to stuff like that, even though I didn't think she fully understood why we were doing it.  I now wonder if deep down maybe she did.