Obituary for Betty Ligon
Betty Ligon, age 66, passed peacefully on December 31, 2021 surrounded by the love and light she so selflessly created for others, after a shocking and brief, but brave, battle with cancer.
Born in Bad Kreuznach, Germany on April 14, 1955 to Chester and Ottillie Ligon both of whom preceded her in death. Betty is survived by her only daughter, Meghan (Rob), her 5 grandchildren Grace (23), Harrison (15), Pierce (14), Jackson (12), and Grant (11), her brother Chester Ligon, Jr. (Sandy), her sister Mary Haridman (Brad), her nieces and nephews, and countless friends whom she considered family: Pam, Alex (Don and Alana), Donna, and her beloved Pokemon Go community (Angelo, Carlos, Robin, Mia).
Betty spent her early years as a self-proclaimed “Army Brat.” Eventually landing in Virginia, she was a Pom Pom girl and graduated from Mt. Vernon High School in 1973. Here she met her first husband, Sean, and together they welcomed their only child together, Meghan, in 1981. Though their marriage did not last, they remained genuine friends for the rest of Betty’s life. Betty spent her career working for the Department of the Army (civilian). Despite her traditional 9-5 job, she was always a free spirit, dedicated to living her life on her own terms. Retired in 2010, she moved to Delaware to be closer to her daughter and her grandkids.
Betty drew people to her with a warmth and acceptance in every smile, and an unbelievable talent for never flinching. Ever. She was as steady as they come and people often marveled at her strength–both physical and emotional. She loved animals and hers were the most spoiled of any felines or canines.
A competitive person by nature, she left this world having NEVER lost a game of Backgammon–no matter how sad that made all the people she defeated without a hint of effort nor remorse. She carried this competitive spirit with her in everything she did–from board games to Pokemon Go to yoga. She was going to compete and she was going to win!!! Her son-in-law learned this the hard way when they got into a friendly water gun fight, and when she sensed the tide was turning against her, she went outside and brought in the whole entire garden hose. And turned it on. Full force. Inside the house. The battle ended quickly after, with her as clear victor. Always a humble person, she had the decency to act like she wasn’t enjoying her victories, but we all know better.
An avid reader and music lover, she instilled these pieces of herself in her family. She re-read The Stand once a year, though after Covid, she wondered if maybe she should read something less terrifying. She didn’t of course, but she thought about it. She read every book people recommended sometimes with not-so-subtle eye-rolls, but she wanted to know what made people feel. She loved Fleetwood Mac and Aerosmith. She adored Pink Floyd and Heart. She loved singing – loudly and offkey – and would hum the same 4 bars of a song until everyone was also singing the same 4 bars no matter how much we did not want those notes in our heads. She hated crowds, but loved live music so it was always a sight to see which shoulder angel would win.
A truly gifted artist, she became known as the “pumpkin lady” and every Halloween people come to the house to see which new pumpkins have been added to the collection.
As a mother, she was a saint as proven by the fact that she did not sell her only daughter on the internet, though that might have been because the internet wasn’t that big in the early 90s. She housed more sleepovers than anyone could count, and did so with joy in her heart, even at 3am when 5 cackling teenage girls were having super important and intellectual conversations at peak volume. She loved “the girls” fiercely and watched with pride as they all grew up in front of her.
As an Oma she was more fun than any kid could imagine. Hands on and amazing was how she wanted to be as a grandparent, and she succeeded in every way imaginable. She was the “land of yes.” Want to go to a movie? Yes. Want to go see Thomas the Train? Yes. Want to go to lunch? Yes. Want to play monopoly? Yes. Want to stay up late and order pizza? Yes. She loved her 5 grandkids with an intensity unrivaled by even the sun.
As a friend, she could make you feel like the most important person in the room. She was supportive without enabling stupid choices. She would call you out. Loudly. Not to hurt you, but rather to prevent you from hurting yourself. Deeply logical and straightforward she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you if you were acting a fool, but she did so with a gentleness and a warmth that seems impossible.
She made this world infinitely brighter with her wit, charm, grace and love. She made this world better simply by existing in it. If she chose you, she chose you for life, even if circumstances changed. Even if you hadn’t spoken recently, know that she was cheering for you. And if you were one of the lucky ones she loved and let in, she let you all the way in, and shared her space and love authentically and wholly. And we are all better for it.
Betty left this world the same way she lived her whole life, on her own terms, with squared shoulders and a steady chin. Not prone to fits of emotion, she was very clear in her belief funerals were for the living, and she was adamant that no one remember her with anything other than happiness. In fact, she threatened to haunt anyone who did the “sad side head tilt.” And if you think she won’t, I encourage you to reflect on the garden hose story for a little extra clarity.
So in honor of Betty’s memory, drink an absolutely disgusting Kahlua and cream, hum off-key, defeat a small child at a board game, smile genuinely, don’t let that friend get bangs without an intervention, read, laugh until you cry, square your shoulders, dress up for halloween, make ridiculous bows for packages that absolutely do NOT need them, eat an entire candy cane cake, and above all leave a legacy of love when you depart whether that departure be from a room or the world.
A celebration of her life will be held on April 16th, time and place TBD.
In lieu of flowers please consider making a donation in Betty’s memory to Paws for Life https://www.pawsforlife.org/help.htm
Born in Bad Kreuznach, Germany on April 14, 1955 to Chester and Ottillie Ligon both of whom preceded her in death. Betty is survived by her only daughter, Meghan (Rob), her 5 grandchildren Grace (23), Harrison (15), Pierce (14), Jackson (12), and Grant (11), her brother Chester Ligon, Jr. (Sandy), her sister Mary Haridman (Brad), her nieces and nephews, and countless friends whom she considered family: Pam, Alex (Don and Alana), Donna, and her beloved Pokemon Go community (Angelo, Carlos, Robin, Mia).
Betty spent her early years as a self-proclaimed “Army Brat.” Eventually landing in Virginia, she was a Pom Pom girl and graduated from Mt. Vernon High School in 1973. Here she met her first husband, Sean, and together they welcomed their only child together, Meghan, in 1981. Though their marriage did not last, they remained genuine friends for the rest of Betty’s life. Betty spent her career working for the Department of the Army (civilian). Despite her traditional 9-5 job, she was always a free spirit, dedicated to living her life on her own terms. Retired in 2010, she moved to Delaware to be closer to her daughter and her grandkids.
Betty drew people to her with a warmth and acceptance in every smile, and an unbelievable talent for never flinching. Ever. She was as steady as they come and people often marveled at her strength–both physical and emotional. She loved animals and hers were the most spoiled of any felines or canines.
A competitive person by nature, she left this world having NEVER lost a game of Backgammon–no matter how sad that made all the people she defeated without a hint of effort nor remorse. She carried this competitive spirit with her in everything she did–from board games to Pokemon Go to yoga. She was going to compete and she was going to win!!! Her son-in-law learned this the hard way when they got into a friendly water gun fight, and when she sensed the tide was turning against her, she went outside and brought in the whole entire garden hose. And turned it on. Full force. Inside the house. The battle ended quickly after, with her as clear victor. Always a humble person, she had the decency to act like she wasn’t enjoying her victories, but we all know better.
An avid reader and music lover, she instilled these pieces of herself in her family. She re-read The Stand once a year, though after Covid, she wondered if maybe she should read something less terrifying. She didn’t of course, but she thought about it. She read every book people recommended sometimes with not-so-subtle eye-rolls, but she wanted to know what made people feel. She loved Fleetwood Mac and Aerosmith. She adored Pink Floyd and Heart. She loved singing – loudly and offkey – and would hum the same 4 bars of a song until everyone was also singing the same 4 bars no matter how much we did not want those notes in our heads. She hated crowds, but loved live music so it was always a sight to see which shoulder angel would win.
A truly gifted artist, she became known as the “pumpkin lady” and every Halloween people come to the house to see which new pumpkins have been added to the collection.
As a mother, she was a saint as proven by the fact that she did not sell her only daughter on the internet, though that might have been because the internet wasn’t that big in the early 90s. She housed more sleepovers than anyone could count, and did so with joy in her heart, even at 3am when 5 cackling teenage girls were having super important and intellectual conversations at peak volume. She loved “the girls” fiercely and watched with pride as they all grew up in front of her.
As an Oma she was more fun than any kid could imagine. Hands on and amazing was how she wanted to be as a grandparent, and she succeeded in every way imaginable. She was the “land of yes.” Want to go to a movie? Yes. Want to go see Thomas the Train? Yes. Want to go to lunch? Yes. Want to play monopoly? Yes. Want to stay up late and order pizza? Yes. She loved her 5 grandkids with an intensity unrivaled by even the sun.
As a friend, she could make you feel like the most important person in the room. She was supportive without enabling stupid choices. She would call you out. Loudly. Not to hurt you, but rather to prevent you from hurting yourself. Deeply logical and straightforward she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you if you were acting a fool, but she did so with a gentleness and a warmth that seems impossible.
She made this world infinitely brighter with her wit, charm, grace and love. She made this world better simply by existing in it. If she chose you, she chose you for life, even if circumstances changed. Even if you hadn’t spoken recently, know that she was cheering for you. And if you were one of the lucky ones she loved and let in, she let you all the way in, and shared her space and love authentically and wholly. And we are all better for it.
Betty left this world the same way she lived her whole life, on her own terms, with squared shoulders and a steady chin. Not prone to fits of emotion, she was very clear in her belief funerals were for the living, and she was adamant that no one remember her with anything other than happiness. In fact, she threatened to haunt anyone who did the “sad side head tilt.” And if you think she won’t, I encourage you to reflect on the garden hose story for a little extra clarity.
So in honor of Betty’s memory, drink an absolutely disgusting Kahlua and cream, hum off-key, defeat a small child at a board game, smile genuinely, don’t let that friend get bangs without an intervention, read, laugh until you cry, square your shoulders, dress up for halloween, make ridiculous bows for packages that absolutely do NOT need them, eat an entire candy cane cake, and above all leave a legacy of love when you depart whether that departure be from a room or the world.
A celebration of her life will be held on April 16th, time and place TBD.
In lieu of flowers please consider making a donation in Betty’s memory to Paws for Life https://www.pawsforlife.org/help.htm