Birth date: Jun 6, 1981 Death date: Nov 23, 2025
Elizabeth Spooner of Fredericksburg, formerly of King George, joined God and His angels on Sunday, November 23, 2025. Elizabeth graduated from King George High School and completed coursework at VCU. She enjoyed music, playing th Read Obituary
Sending hugs and prayers to you Christine. I know too well losing a child as my Kevin is in Heaven with Elizabeth. I am sure he and Ed walked her in. I am always here for you. Remember Elizabeth us with you always. Love you.
Sending love and hugs to you Christine. I know too well the pain of losing a child. Elizabeth is beautiful and is with you always. I am here for always. Love you.
Thank you so much for being a wonderful caring friend. You always gave me text and/or call to say hello, learning new things, love my travel stories or check on me. My favorite time with you was when we saw the reissue of Die Hard (1988) at the regal two years ago. You mentioned that was one of the best times you had in a long time. I’m going to miss you Liz and I know your spirit is still around us. Love you.
Brandon “Brando” Johnson
Some of my fondest memories with Liz include riding around in the car with the windows down, blaring Ani DiFranco. She was one of my closest friends in high school, someone I could always be myself around, who always accepted me and my mess without judgment. I hope I made even a small impact on her life, the way she made such a lasting impact on mine.
Liz
The first thing I remember is her music.
Liz always has a new song cued up, always a new world waiting behind the next chord. She presses play like she is handing me something fragile and important. Mixed tapes with handwritten labels. Coffee warming our palms. Two girls who do not yet know the shape of their future, but already know the shape of freedom: four wheels and a volume knob.
Her freckles glow when she laughs. Her shy smile never stays shy for long. She sings off key and with absolute joy. I follow her lead. We ruin every chorus and somehow make it perfect.
High school feels different when Liz is in the passenger seat. The ’91 Grand Prix becomes a lifeline. Back roads become possibility. Windows open wide enough to let the big feelings breathe.
She teaches me that music is a conversation.
She teaches me that friendship can be loud and soft at the same time.
If I have to choose one memory, it is the day we drive to Longwood. We are supposed to tour and ask serious questions about serious futures. Instead, she hands me her old Honda as if it is obvious I belong behind the wheel. She teaches me to drive a stick with patience no adult ever offered me. Her voice is steady. Her confidence in me is steady. Her laughter overruns every mistake.
Left foot, clutch.
Right foot, courage.
Do not granny shift.
Try again.
You’ve got it.
We learn that freedom is something you can practice.
We learn that growing up still gets to be fun.
We learn that girls can build their own way forward together.
Everything I am supposed to feel at seventeen but cannot explain, she helps me translate. Into motion. Into music. Into choosing the long way home just because it feels good to be alive.
Every manual transmission I have driven since traces back to her. Every back road that clears my mind carries the echo of her laughter. Every playlist I make is stitched with the memory of a small redheaded girl who knew how to turn feeling into flight.
Liz showed me that life can be steered with both hands and a wild heart.
She is the reason I believe in open roads and loud songs.
She is the reason horsepower feels like hope.
And now, when Orbit plays on my playlist,
I still hear her voice beside me,
still laughing,
still telling me not to shift too soon,
still teaching me to keep going.
Thank you, Liz,
for every mile you gave me.
Love
Chrissy Simmons Short
There are so many memories—Virginia Beach trips, playing in the backyard, eating mint leaves in your front yard, endless slumber parties and baking in your kitchen. My fondest memories are just us being kids—swinging, playing pretend, trick or treating, then turning into teens—obsessing over talking on the phone and boys and everything that came with that. There are so many of my memories in King George that feature you Elizabeth. I’m very thankful to have called you my friend.
