Marian Dickson

Marian Faye Dickson

If you knew Marian Faye Dickson, you knew there was never any telling exactly what was going to happen next.

There might be a story. There might be a joke. There might be a glass of wine, a country song playing in the background, or two words that somehow made everyone pay attention:

"Watch this."

And there was always laughter.

Marian, 86, passed away on September 25, 2026, in Loxahatchee, Florida. Born May 6, 1940, in LaGrange, Georgia, she was the daughter of William Luther Payne and Annie Bell Payne. She grew up in LaGrange before joining the United States Navy at the age of 18, proudly serving her country as a Navy WAVE.

After her military service, Marian married the love of her life, Thomas Dickson III. Thomas also served in the military, and their life together took them to several places around the country, including Parris Island, South Carolina; Quantico, Virginia; Davie, Florida; and Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Marian later worked as a loan officer for Glendale Federal.

She was the beloved wife of the late Thomas Dickson III, the mother of Tina Dechert and William Dickson, and the beloved mother-in-law of Stephen C. Dechert. She leaves behind six grandchildren: Stephen and Jessica Dechert, Robert and Jessica Dechert, Madison Snyder, and Kyle Dickson; and five great-grandchildren: Lily Dechert, Charlie Dechert, Harrison Snyder, Dutton Dickson, and Jasper Dechert, who is expected in December. She is also survived by her sisters Carole Sandefur and Anita Laney and her cherished nieces and nephews Michael, Jonathan, Tory, Lisa, Aimee, Martha Ann, and Will. She was preceded in death by her husband Thomas and sisters Nancy Wright and Kathy Smith.

But the facts of Marian's life only tell part of her story.

To her family, she was Grandma, Nana, and Nina. She was the person who could make an ordinary day feel like something worth remembering. When her grandchildren arrived at her house, she greeted them with the same huge smile and hug whether she had seen them the day before or hadn't seen them in months. She made sure they knew their arrival was the best thing that had happened to her all day.

And Marian had a smile that was impossible to forget. It wasn't just a smile you saw on her mouth or cheeks; her eyes lit up, too. It was as though her whole soul was smiling at you. When Marian smiled at you, you couldn't help but feel like everything was going to be good.

She took her grandchildren trick-or-treating. She spent countless days making sure they were having fun. She cooked for them. She laughed with them. She made memories with them. And she was simply there, again and again, in all the ways that matter most.

Marian loved country music and dancing, and her knowledge of country music was nearly unmatched. Conway Twitty held a special place in her heart, and her family could count on her knowing the answer to just about any country music trivia question. Her husband affectionately called her "Jitter" because of her love of the jitterbug.

She loved reading, crossword puzzles, shopping, trivia, cooking, and a good glass of wine. Her chicken piccata, poppy seed chicken, and chicken and dumplings were family favorites. She loved Tweety Bird. She loved having fun. And she had a sense of humor that meant you never quite knew what she might say next.

During COVID, she spent time with her sisters in their garage, which they proudly named "The Hag Bar" in honor of Merle Haggard. Somehow, that name, that garage, and those memories capture Marian perfectly: music, family, laughter, and absolutely no interest in taking life too seriously.

Marian was the family's historian. She remembered everything: people, stories, details, and all the little things everyone else had forgotten. She carried the family's history with her and, in doing so, became part of the history herself.

She taught the people she loved to have fun, to smile, and to "enjoy the ride."

And that may be the best way to remember her.

Marian was warm like a fireplace, the kind of person whose presence made a room feel different simply because she was in it. She brought energy, humor, and life wherever she went. She didn't need to be the center of attention but always became the center of attention.

She will be missed by everyone who loved her, but especially by the family who had the privilege of calling her Grandma, Nana, and Nina.

And somewhere, we imagine, she's probably still dancing, listening to Conway Twitty, and getting ready to say:

"Watch this."