As I write this blog at just past midnight, I would like to pay tribute to my dad, Anthony Dixon. Today is the five year anniversary of my dad's passing. He was too young. He was just 65.
My dad was a quiet man. He had a great sense of humor, he loved playing the accordion, he was proud to be Irish and he loved his family. I can still remember him at family gatherings, cigarette in hand, legs crossed, guffawing at a joke. My mom was the driving force behind all of us when it came to education but he couldn't have been prouder of all of our accomplishments.
He was a handsome man with a fine head of hair. His bar buddies used to tease him that he used shoe black to keep his hair dark but he was just blessed with great hair. He was the McSteamy of his generation when it came to hair.
We have quite a few Anthony's in our family, more than one would expect for an Irish family. I'm not sure why but the Irish have an affinity for St. Anthony of Padua hence the preponderance of Anthony's in our Irish family. My dad, a few cousins and it's my son's confirmation name in honor of his Papa Tony.
He loved a good sweater vest. It was one of my favorite tasks to find him the best sweater vest I could each Christmas and he would wear them proudly.
No relationships are perfect. My relationship with my father certainly wasn't perfect but we knew we loved each other. The Irish are not known for their open displays of affection. I've certainly made some conscious decisions to say I love you to those that I love. One of my proudest achievements is that my children are really never embarrassed to hug me and say 'I love you' to me every night or at random times when I'm not expecting it. When they have family visiting, they go right up without hesitation and hug and kiss their aunts, uncles, Nanny, loved ones. Those times are the most special.
Daddy was surrounded by all these grandsons, six boys born from 1995 to 2000, (Peter - James - Connor - Stephen - Hunter - Joseph) a fine pack of boys. We lost him early but he lived to see all of his grandchildren born. That's quite an accomplishment, all things considered.
My cousin Jamie Dixon is the head coach of the Pitt men's basketball team. To see him is to see my dad. Jamie (my husband) once asked me if it freaked me out to see him. Even he could see the resemblance. I said no, I actually loved it. I find it comforting. Tony Dixon lives on in so many ways.
So today I pay tribute to my dad. I see my son every day and as much as he looks like Jamie, his quiet manner reminds me so much of my dad. That pleases me greatly.
I weep as I write this. Papa Tony, know that you are loved and you are missed.
Oh Mary ..he was a lovely man! It's great to say that he met his grandchildren.My mom died at the age of 56.Regina was expecting her firstwhen she died so she never met her or her brother..
ReplyDeleteAt least we have memories ...:)
Thanks for that Mary. Like you I find the resemblance in Jamie Dixon from Pitt as well as the resemblance in all the boys, whether it be physical or in their mannerisms. When Hunter was young, he used to slam his fist down when he got frustrated, very much like the Auld Fella. Know that he loved you very much as he did all of us. Know also that he did his very best with what he had. As Dad once told Tony, "You can take the measure of a man by the lenght of his funeral procession." My goodness, he had a long one. Love you, Thomas.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, Thomas, he did great as far as I'm concerned. He did have a long funeral procession and a beautiful, magnificent eulogy delivered by his son. It will stay in my memory forever. Love you, too.
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