The story Susan Matthews, a resident of Renaissance of Annandale, starts on a November day in 1942, in Elkins, West Virginia, where she arrived as the youngest of seven—a house filled with three sisters, three brothers, and the gentle certainty of her father’s voice as he tracked the weather from his post as a meteorologist. Childhood was rarely quiet, but there was always a sense of bustle and warmth. Family dinners meant passing plates back and forth while Susan watched her older siblings banter, and there was always a spot at the table for laughter and the lessons that come from growing up in a big, lively family.

When Susan was still young, her father’s career swept the family to Asheville, North Carolina. But life’s storms came early: losing both parents left Susan and her siblings to find their own way. Rita, the eldest sister, stepped into the role of mother, steady and strong. In those years, Susan was surrounded by family but found herself drawn to independence—choosing to figure things out on her own, even with others to lean on. That spirit of self-reliance became a thread woven through every chapter of her life. 

Her independence showed early, even in the simple pleasure of getting ready for work each morning. Susan was known for her carefully styled bangs and her knack for putting together just the right outfit. She loved to dress up, not out of vanity, but because it felt like a way to honor the day ahead. The grocery store where she worked in North Carolina became a stage of sorts—bright lights, polished shoes, and the quiet sense that something was about to change.

One afternoon, a young man named Bob walked in. He noticed Susan immediately—her poise, the way she carried herself, the hint of a smile as she greeted customers. “I can’t live without her,” he thought. Bob was determined, but so was Susan. When he took a job in Danville, Virginia, Susan set down her terms: “I’ll move with you, but only if we’re married.” And so, in 1964, they stood before the Justice of the Peace, beginning a partnership built on honesty and mutual respect.

When Bob’s mother heard about their decision, she offered them $10,000 for a traditional church wedding. Susan, ever practical, had another idea. “Why not use it to buy furniture?” she suggested, instead of spending it all on something that was over after one day. The two of them wandered through furniture showrooms instead of aisles of pews and flowers, picking out pieces that would turn a house into their home—each chair and table a small act of building their life together.

Virginia brought new opportunities. Susan started at a local grocery store but, encouraged by a coworker who saw her potential, she considered what else she might do. “You can do more,” the coworker urged. Susan took the advice to heart. She moved into data management, and then set her sights even higher—on a career with the federal government.

Determined, she filled out 100 applications and sat through 10 interviews, each one a test of her patience and grit. Eventually, her efforts paid off: she landed a job with the U.S. Tax Court as a clerk typist. The courtrooms were full of quiet tension and the clatter of typewriter keys, but Susan found her rhythm. She rose to assistant manager, and later to managing a section of the Court—assembling tax cases, guiding her team, and earning the trust of the judges. She was known for her instincts, her fairness, and her ability to keep everything moving, even on the busiest days. Over 33 years, Susan rarely missed a day of work—her steady presence a comfort to those around her.

But Susan’s days did not end with the office lights. After work, she often changed out of her work clothes, slipped into something comfortable, and hoisted her kayak onto her Subaru Crosstrek, heading out to Burke Lake. The water was calm, the air cool, and Susan relished the solitude—just her paddle and the gentle lap of water against the hull. Walking, too, became a daily routine. She’d lace up her sneakers and set out for a brisk 30- to 45-minute walk, sometimes lost in thought, sometimes simply enjoying the rhythm of her steps.

Yoga and Silver Sneakers classes brought a different kind of energy—Susan stretching, laughing alongside friends, savoring the feeling of movement. For a decade, she danced with the SHAG Club, letting the music carry her across the floor. And each week, she kept up a tradition: jogging at noon with a group of lawyers, from the Capitol to the Washington Monument, the city humming around them. Tennis came next, her shoes squeaking on the court as she played alongside lawyers and judges, always ready for a friendly match.

Animals have always been part of Susan’s world. Horses, especially, spoke to her soul. She owned two—Tuffy and Scooter—who became her companions at Jarvis Stables. Early mornings, she’d arrive with an apple or two in her pocket, saddle up, and set off for pleasure rides, or work with her horses through obstacles at Manassas Battlefield, the sun glinting off the fields. The bond was simple and deep—trust, patience, and shared adventure.

Her love for dogs, especially pugs, was a family tradition, sparked by Rita and carried through decades. Susan’s home was never complete without the soft shuffling of a pair of pugs at her heels—their curious faces and affectionate nature a constant source of comfort and joy.



Susan’s sense of style carried through every part of her life. She kept a wardrobe that was both practical and elegant, always mindful that looking good was a way to feel prepared for whatever the day might bring. Whether heading to work, meeting friends, playing tennis, or simply running errands, Susan took pleasure in putting herself together—“I need to look good for the job,” she’d say, straightening her jacket or smoothing her skirt.

Designing her dream home in Fairfax Station was one of Susan’s proudest accomplishments. She had a vision for every detail—especially the separation between the kitchen and family room. “I don’t want to sit in the family room and look at dirty dishes!” she laughed, and so the house was built to her specifications, every room a reflection of her taste and thoughtfulness.

Through every stage of her life, Bob has been her constant. He promised Susan he’d always be by her side—and he’s kept that promise. After all these years together, it is clear that their love and partnership have remained one of the most important parts of Susan's story. Even now, Susan’s face lights up when Bob walks into the room. They still enjoy walks together, their steps in easy rhythm, or sit together listening to music, Susan swaying along, unable to resist the beat. “She’s the best, the greatest inspiration in my life,” Bob says, his voice soft with gratitude.

When you look at Susan’s life—a grocery store in North Carolina, the halls of the U.S. Tax Court, the quiet water of Burke Lake, the open fields of Manassas Battlefield—you see a woman who has always found her own way, met every challenge with strength and curiosity, and filled her days with purpose and adventure.

And in Susan’s own words: “Man makes plans, God changes them.” Her story is proof that every plan, every detour, every new chapter brings its own lesson and its own kind of joy. The Renaissance family is honored to celebrate Susan Matthews—a woman of remarkable work ethic, spirit, and heart.