Robert Dixon

Robert “Bob” Dixon, aged 75, passed away on the morning of Friday, November the 13th, 2020 due to complications from pancreatic cancer. He was born in May of 1945 to Rebecca Potofsky( Betty Masters). Having been raised as an only child , Robert understood what it was like to be truly alone. Fueled by this distaste for loneliness, he set about on a course that would mould the world around him into something that his childhood lacked, a loving family.

Robert joined the Air Force at age 18 and became a mechanic for the technologically advanced airplanes of his era. He served well, and spent a tour in Vietnam, where luckily he didn't see combat, but was exposed to some of the atrocities nonetheless. More importantly, this is where he forged friendships, a brotherhood, with people that would become connected to him throughout his entire life. He possessed a guitar, etched with the names of these brothers, that he kept with him throughout his entire life, even until his passing. Like the guitar, the etched names became a part of him, something he never let go.

He didn't stop there, he constantly found ways to include more and more people into his ever-expanding circle. Talking, laughing, and singing his way into the hearts of many, he was able to leverage his love of life as a beacon to many that needed a light in the dark times. He was always checking in on friends, to make sure they were alright, to celebrate their victories and milestones, and to wallow in the depths with them when misery reared its ugly head.

He became a skilled guitarist and entertainer, and honed his craft his entire life. As a prolific performer, his guitar was always handy, ready to brighten a dark room, liven up a lifeless party, and wake the neighbor's dog with the shrill tones from "La Bamba." His genre was all, as his fingers danced on the strings, each pluck endearing the ears and hearts of all, to a man wanting to bring joy to others in the best way he knew how. The stories told with voice and guitar can still be heard as distant echoes in memories burned in practice and love. He loved to perform, and people loved to hear him sing. He loved that he was able to lift the spirits of those present, if only for a moment.

After culturing and nurturing the relationships around him with attention and love, he found the chance to have a family of his own. He found a wife, and eventually 7 kids. All loved him dearly, as he loved them dearly. Life was chaos, but he embraced it and willed his charmed life forward. All the while, keeping in contact with those with whom he'd connected before, because all of his family is important.

For many years he was a force, as a husband, a father, a friend, and a provider. Each got the attention they needed and more, never lacking for want of importance, because all were important.

The day came when the walls crashed on the life he'd built. Bipolar disorder reigned in his stead and try as he might the walls were never quite the same again. He'd try to build again and again, and each time it would crumble sucking the wind out of his already listless sails. He never stopped trying. Even after all of the set-backs, he would see a bright spot and hold to that thought. Even going so far as to add on to his educational qualifications in his early 70's.

He had earned a bachelor's in Anthropology from the University of Arizona in his mid twenties and wanted to add to that in his 70's. He went back to college late in life and was having phenomenal success, getting straight A's, aceing tests, well on his way to what he considered his missed calling in life, being a teacher. Yet again he was toppled from his perch, victory again snatched from his grasp by a disorder he could never control.

He spiraled again, this time, there was no end in sight. Last ditch therapy, ineffective. He wallowed for years, waiting out the low spell, hoping for a return to normalcy. It would never return, the only reprieve was a pronouncement of cancer, untreatable.

With a dark prognosis, a grim future awaited. Yet, cancer was a mercy in a way that only God could make possible. A mercy on Robert, and a mercy on the family that endured through the hills and valleys of his life. Robert was surrounded by his loving children, who tended to his needs to the very end. His children, granted a mercy and time to heal the wounds from a father they had to love from a distance or behind walls.

He spent his last evening with his children, listening to them sing, play guitar, and play music they loved. The fates were in play and as the night waned, your children were set to retire. Each one left, but a loving daughter stayed, unknowingly to see him off onto his last journey. She held his arm as he cooled to this life, last breath taken, the fire finally dulled, with the last beat of his heart. Peace at last. Arms await, the son that passed before him. Peace at last.

His life is not the summation of his trials. Robert's victories stand as monument to his quest for purpose in this life. He purposed to have a family, and he did. Robert is survived by 6 children, 21 grandchildren, and the countless others that he considered family throughout his life.