This website was created in memory of Jennifer "Jen" Dixon born on 07/30/1986 and passed away on 06/04/2004 at the age of 17. As Jen would say "Oh my God! You are so beautiful."
With love Van (and the girls from P E A C E 4 US)
Tributes and Condolences
DANG it. I guess you gotta face the bad days. / :( :) (:))
I thought time will heal everything. I kept telling myself time, time, time or she is in a better place. Which I know you are in a better place. Angels like you deserve the best. I just can't believe I had you and like that you were gone. I have been...
9 years / Leah Stuart (Friends)
Jen, I can't believe its been 9 years already. Time has really flown by yet I still think of you all the time. Our fun times in Holbrook and Show Low will always be a constant reminder of how great of a person you were. I dre...
Forever and Ever.... / Mom
What I wanted most for my daughter was that she be able to soar confidently in her own sky, where ever that may be.
I'll love you forever and ever Jen, even longer ~
Song lyrics / Timothy Foley (Show Low resident )
Hello my name is Timothy Foley. I am a 27 year old Show Low resident. On June 13th, 2012, I was walking through the Show Low graveyard, and found myself sitting on Jennifer's memorial bench, and reading the stone and the cement. I h...
Wishing you were here.. / Emilee (Little Cousin :) )
I hope in heaven god lets you watch over your family..and I hope he let's you see how much you've touched so many lives. How much we all just wish you were here... In 21 days John is getting married.. And it's another time in our lives when we will a...
Where do I start to describe this horrible experience. I lost my daughter on June 4, 2004 and buried her on June 11, 2004. Burying your child is a surreal experience. There are no words in the dictionary that can explain the grief, heartache, pain, depression and anguish. Heartbroken is to small a word. The words don't exist because it's not supposed to happen, yet, it did happen! What am I now? Am I a daughterless mother? That sounds like an oxymoron, two words that contradict themselves. The factual side of my brain processes the information, but the emotional side of my brain argues with the fact everyday. Every morning it is still a shock to my entire being. I still look into her bedroom and expect to find the perfectly made bed a jumbled mess of covers with my daughter curled up underneath them. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children! It's not the natural order of things - you expect headstones to say "Beloved Grandmother" or "Beloved Mother" but not "Beloved Daughter"... This was not supposed to happen! How can this be changed? It can't be changed. Things I want to say to her are forever left unspoken. How will I go on? I can't go on, yet I do. My body wakes each day. I don't ask for this to happen - it just does. I breath, it's automatic, something I have no control over. My physical being now controls my day. I eat, I walk, I talk, I put one foot in front of the other. I load the dishwasher and I shop for groceries. I can even think "on" my job "about" my job. But, my spiritual being merely exists. It can't flourish or soar ever again. When my daughter died my emotional self died with her. When she died I buried my daughters college graduation, her future wedding, her future husband to be, her future children, the future grandchildren that I'll never, ever know, my life as I knew it, is with her " I buried my best friend "! Tucked in the corner of Jen's casket is my once fulfilled self, my purpose. There is not enough room in her casket for all the things that died with her. Her dreams, hopes, joys, and future. I will go on, I have no choice. There is no other road for me to travel. It is just that I will never be "normal" again. I will never stand in long lines at Christmas time just to buy the perfect gift for my daughter. I'll never watch her play volleyball again. I'll never sit at another one of my daughters piano recitals and watch her nervously pluck away at the keyboard. I'll never see her again with her long blonde ponytail walking out the door, off on another adventure. I'll never watch her play softball again. I'll never see her beautiful face on this earth again. The audience has faded for her. In my head, I had visions of the most beautiful wedding gown that she would someday wear. I wanted to tell Jen how much her children were just like her. I used to answer the phone and hear "hey Mom - what's up". Now her voice is never on the other end of the phone when it rings. I'll never hear her sweet voice again, ever. If I've learned anything from this it's to appreciate the ones you love because in a blink of an eye they can be gone. We think we have control over our lives when in fact our lives control us. We are on this journey until the end and only God knows the bumps (or mountains) that lie ahead. I love you Jen - yesterday, today and tomorrow even more.....
We love you Jen!
Jennifer was born July 30, 1986 in Flagstaff, Az. I was so happy to have a girl. My only daughter, she was beautiful from the moment she came into this world. She loved school, her friends and family. She had a heart for children and the elderly. She thought old people were "cute". I always told her to get a career in nursing and work with the elderly. She said "what if I get attached to them and then they die"? I told her that's the price you pay when you love someone. But, it's worth the risk. And my words ring true as I say that about my daughter, I love you with all my heart and now I love and miss you with all my heart. Jen played volleyball and softball in high school. She was an awesome athlete and the school recognized her with a plaque in the trophy case. The high school paper said she was the best volleyball player that ever attended that school. They had a dedication at the school for her and the Holbrook & Show Low Volleyball teams sent messages to heaven on balloons to Jen (I hope she got them). Jen graduated with the class of 2004 and died in a car accident seven days later. She was named most likely to be seen on "ESPN" by her graduating class. I believe she would have done it. A beautiful bright light that was shut off too soon. You'll always be loved and missed my precious little baby girl. Not a minute goes by that I don't think of you and miss you.