Tonya W. Van Horn

Tonya Woullard Van Horn of Edmond, Oklahoma, was born in San Angelo, Texas, on a spring day in 1933 to Emma Jo and Euston Woullard. She passed away in the early hours of March 13, 2026. She had spent her days and nights preceding her death surrounded by her family.

The Family would like to invite you to a special memorial service, including Tonya’s favorite piano and cello music played live from 4 pm to 6 pm on March 28. For location and to RSVP, please email Victoria@victoriacaldwell.com.

Of all the notable figures in the world, Queen Elizabeth was one of our mother’s favorites. It is fitting, then, to include the Queen’s famous words: “Grief is the price we pay for love.” She could not have been more correct.

Our family knows that grief and love walk hand in hand. Even now, we live in that deeply human awareness that each of us will one day take this same journey. Our only hope is that we will do so with the same grit.

Tonya Woullard Van Horn has been many things: a daughter, a best friend, a wife, a mother, a grandmother and great-grandmother, a therapist, an artist, a musician, a world traveler, a balletomane, an animal lover, and a devoted home chef. In recent years, she loved watching and likely should have co-starred on Bar Rescue. We are convinced she could whip those bar owners into shape with her signature blend of discipline and wit.

At a time in history when many young women—especially those from West Texas—were expected to graduate high school and marry, our mother initially began a different path. She has always been proud of the associate’s degree she earned while attending the University of North Texas in 1951. Later, in her late forties and early fifties, she returned to school to complete her bachelor’s degree and then immediately pursued and earned her master’s degree in psychology.

When asked about one of her most significant achievements, she simply said, “I am really happy that I went back to school and got my master’s degree.”

Tonya became a Licensed Family Therapist in the early 1980s and devoted herself to that calling for many years. She worked with Red Rock Behavioral Services in Oklahoma City and later in her own private practice in Edmond, continuing to serve others with compassion and insight until her retirement.

She was also a gifted artist who loved working in oil and acrylic, often focusing on beautifully executed still-life paintings. Perhaps her most unforgettable artistic work, however, was far more personal: the elaborate murals she painted on the large plate-glass windows of our apartment in Germany while our family was stationed overseas during our father’s Air Force tour of duty. We all remember her in her stylish stirrup pants, standing on the sill of that giant window, carefully painting an entire Christmas mural of the Three Kings, their camels, and the guiding star. It was breathtaking.

Over the years, our mother developed an impressive collection of original recipes and a remarkable dedication to the art of preserving food. By her own humorous admission, she did not enter adulthood as a natural cook. Yet through persistence and love, she became one. We children were the grateful beneficiaries of her culinary evolution and still treasure her famous chocolate fudge pie, open-faced crab sandwiches, Sunday pot roast, Mexican chef salad, wilted lettuce salad, stuffed bell peppers, and her perfectly balanced chili. Her spicy cheese grits and fried chicken made in a square electric skillet have never been duplicated. Most cherished of all were her watermelon rind preserves—a delicacy we have not tasted since she last made them.

Her admiration for the Queen seems fitting, because in many ways she belonged to that same resilient generation of women who navigated harsh realities with quiet strength. As she grew older, she became more candid about her opinions, her reflections, and even her regrets, speaking with honesty shaped by experience and wisdom.

Tonya Van Horn is the mother of three children: Victoria Caldwell, Mark Van Horn, and Rachael Van Horn. She is the grandmother of Christopher Van Horn and Johnna Wickstrom Weary, and the great-grandmother of Gabe Van Horn, Eva Weary, Myles Weary, and Gwendolyn Weary.

Like so many mothers, she carried private dreams that her children did not fully know when they were young. As a high school student, she learned piano but discovered her true passion in the cello. She once dreamed of performing with a distinguished philharmonic orchestra. Though formally trained at considerable cost to her parents, much of her skill became self-taught due to the lack of cello instruction available at her school. In 1951, she auditioned for the university orchestra at the University of North Texas but was not selected—a disappointment she remembered throughout her life.

Perhaps this experience shaped her often-repeated advice: “Know your limitations.” Yet she never abandoned her love of music. Until her recent move to Epworth, her beautiful Eastman cello stood beside her Knabe baby grand piano, a quiet testament to a lifelong devotion to music. She also took pride in once serving as president of her high school orchestra.

Music was always present in our home. We can still hear her playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata and Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1, filling our lives with sound, structure, and beauty.

For 38 years, our mother was the wife of an Air Force officer—a role that required grace, resilience, and sacrifice. She lived under the high expectations placed upon the wives of fighter pilots in that era and embraced those responsibilities with dedication. She organized the Officer’s Wives’ Club fundraisers and played an active role in the social functions and community life of the fighter wings in which our father served.

With so many responsibilities, one might wonder how she managed to raise three children as well. During our overseas years, she was assisted by two nannies who became part of our memories and family stories. In England, there was Miss Meadows, who once served as a nanny to a young Prince Charles and would jokingly remind Mark and Victoria, “Don’t be naughty like Prince Charles.” In Germany, there was Frau Shriver, who lovingly wrapped our feet tightly in blankets like a burrito to keep us warm.

Though our family grieves losing her, we also rejoice in her eventual peace. After enduring the long-term effects of cancer treatments more than thirty-three years ago—giving up many of her favorite foods and facing the vulnerability that comes with aging and dependency—she has often spoken of longing for rest and release. She once said, “After all this, I just want a sweet and peaceful death.”

In recent years, with the clarity that often comes from age and reflection, she has treasured meaningful time with her family in a quieter way than the fast pace of our military upbringing allowed. She traveled with Victoria and Johnna and finally saw parts of Europe she had long hoped to visit.

When recently asked if she had any final words of wisdom, she shared this:

“Be very careful about who you marry and the friends you keep. We should all know our limitations and be realistic about our goals. If I had it to do over, I would have put off marriage and gotten an education. Looking back now, I think I would have liked to become a lawyer, but I grew up in a town and generation where our behavior was dictated by the surrounding community.”

But above all, she urged others never to let go of faith. “Hang on to it. Don’t let it go, because sometimes faith is the only thing that helps you hold on to hope.”

Tonya was preceded in death by her parents, Emma Jo and Euston E. Woullard, and her aunts, Lella and Biddy.

She is survived by her children; Victoria Van Horn-Caldwell and partner Stephen Leenhouts, Mark Van Horn and wife Lana Van Horn and Rachael Van Horn and partner Virgil Sanders; her grandson Christopher Van Horn and his son Gabe Van Horn and her granddaughter Johnna Weary, husband Jason Weary and her great grandchildren Gabe Van Horn, Eva Weary, Gwendolyn Weary and Myles Weary.