Elizabeth Ann Singletary
July 28, 1954 – August 12, 2026
Elizabeth Ann Singletary, 72, of Cairo, GA, passed away Wednesday, August 12, 2026. A private family service will be held at Bold Springs United Methodist Church Cemetery, Cairo, GA.
Mrs. Singletary was born on July 28, 1954, in Wichita County, TX, to the late Billy Ray Berryhill and Edna Elizabeth Valentine Berryhill. On March 15, 1982, she married Oscar Harry Singletary, who preceded her in death on January 1, 2025. She was a retired educator.
Survivors include: son, Mike Singletary (Heather) of Cairo, GA; daughter, Katrina White (Michael) of Cairo, GA; grandchildren, Wyatt Singletary, Steele Singletary and Caleb White, all of Cairo, GA; mother, Edna “Betty” Berryhill of Overton, TX; sister, Marie Grant of East Lake, OH; and a host of nieces, nephews and extended family.
She was preceded in death by: her father; her husband; and a brother, William Berryhill.
The family extends special thanks to Jessica with Archbold Hospice, Sandy Harrell, Patty and Carlton McQuagge for their kindness, care, and support during this time.
Mrs. Singletary’s family shared memories of her life:
To the world, you were a wife, daughter, a sister, Annie, Aunt Annie, Momma Annie, and Granny Annie. But we had the privilege of calling you Mom and Granny. And there are no words big enough to describe what an honor that was.
You showed us what courage looked like. You fought cancer three times. Three times you faced something that could have broken you, and yet you never lost your faith. You never asked, “Why me?” You simply kept fighting. You kept loving. You kept showing up. You showed us that strength isn’t always loud—it can be found in the quiet determination to keep moving forward, to trust God, and to never give up.
Mom, you were strong in ways we didn’t always understand at the time. Looking back now, we realize just how much you carried and how much you gave. Even when you were hurting, you found a way to make sure everyone else was okay. That was who you were. You loved deeply, fiercely, and without condition.
You were there for so many of the moments that made our lives what they are today. You watched us graduate high school and college, get married, have children, and build careers. You celebrated our successes as if they were your own. You were proud of us, sometimes probably more proud than we deserved, and you never missed an opportunity to remind us that you believed in us.
But perhaps your greatest joy came in being Granny. Your grandchildren—your beloved “boys”—were your favorite children, and you made sure everyone knew it. They had a special place in your heart that belonged only to them. You loved their stories, their laughter, their personalities, and all the little things that made them who they were. You spoiled them, encouraged them, fussed at them when you needed to, and loved them through it all. They will grow up knowing exactly how much their Granny loved them.
And your love didn’t stop with our family. Through your years in education, you touched countless lives. You were more than an educator; you were someone who made people feel seen, valued, and welcome. There are so many former students, coworkers, families, and people whose lives you influenced who still remember you today. Many of them knew that no matter who they were or where they came from, they were always welcome at our dinner table. That was Mom. Our home was never just ours. There was always room for one more plate, one more story, one more person who needed a place to sit. You had a way of making people feel like family, whether they had known you for years or had just walked through the door.
You didn’t just teach in a classroom. You taught people how to care. You taught us how to show up for others. You taught us that family is not always defined by blood, but by love, kindness, and the willingness to make room at the table.
The hardest part of losing you is knowing that the world will keep moving without you in it. There will be birthdays and graduations, weddings and holidays, family dinners and ordinary Tuesday nights when we will instinctively want to call you, tell you something, or hear what you think. We will miss your voice. We will miss your laugh. We will miss your hugs. We will miss your advice, even the advice we didn’t want to hear. We will miss seeing you light up when your boys walked through the door. And we will miss simply knowing that you were here.
But we promise you this: we will carry you with us. We will tell your stories. We will keep your traditions. We will leave a chair at the table in our hearts. We will love our families fiercely. We will make room for others. We will keep showing up for one another. And when life gets hard, we will remember the woman who fought cancer three times and never lost her faith. Mom, you gave us a lifetime of love. You gave us roots, strength, faith, laughter, memories, and a family that will continue to love one another because of the example you gave us. To the world, you were Annie. To countless students and friends, you were a teacher, a mentor, a safe place, and someone who made them feel welcome.
To so many, you were Aunt Annie, Momma Annie, and Granny Annie. But to your children, you were simply Mom—the person who loved us, believed in us, stood beside us, and made sure we always knew where home was. And to your boys, you were Granny—their safe place, their biggest cheerleader, their favorite person, and the woman who made them feel like they could do anything. We are your children. We are your boys. And we will spend the rest of our lives carrying your love forward. You may no longer be sitting at our dinner table, but you will always have a place there. We love you, Mom. We love you, Granny. And until we see you again, we will take care of each other—just like you taught us to.
