If I am going to be truthful, I did not think much about boy names at first. I'd grown up with a sister, and I always, ALWAYS knew I was going to have a girl. There were times growing up that I'd wanted a boy, but I hadn't given it much thought. However, when Chris and I started talking boy names (this was before we found out the gender... I wanted the baby to have a name as soon as we found out what he/she was going to be), I KNEW who I was going to name the baby after.
My maternal grandfather, Jack Dillon, was one of the best people to step on this planet, in my opinion. He was loving, he was caring, and I truly felt like I was one of the apples in his eye. My sister, Michelle, and I were the only grandchildren on either side, and so we were spoiled... but we always knew he spoiled us not just because he was our grandfather, but because he wanted to. He picked us up from school on occasion, and he always took us out to lunch on Sunday afternoons after "happy hour" at the Dillon house, after church. He would let Michelle and I pick wherever we wanted to go eat. I remember one time, in particular, we changed our minds on the way to the restaurant. He grumbled, but he turned the car around and we went wherever it was. Ha!
Papa (as we called him) was the one who taught me about Razorback football. One of my first football games to attend was just the two of us - my parents were prepping for us to move, and Michelle was too young (and not interested) to attend. It was a COLD game... We played Alabama, and we tied. That I do remember. He also taught me how to love the Dallas Cowboys. He was one of the first people to tell me that we love our teams, good years and bad. To this day, I follow that mantra. (Fair weathered fans are some of my pet peeves. FYI.)
He was also deeply religious. He and Mama (his wife, my grandmother) were charter members of St. Paul, where Dillon is a fourth generation member. He showed his faith quietly... not talking about it much, but he came to church, helped usher, and helped do some of the behind the scenes portions. When Papa would usher, he would let me walk back with him down the center aisle after collecting the offering. I thought I was big stuff. ;) After he died, I found a letter he'd never delivered to our then associate pastor, Al. All it said was, "Al, please pray for my surgery. I'm scared. Jack." However, I knew the second my Aunt Debbie told me that Papa died (May 7, 2001) he went straight to Heaven to join his wife and other siblings and parents. There was no doubt in my mind.
For these reasons, and more, I knew my son's name would be either Jack or Dillon. We settled on Dillon. I really like family names, and so we decided Dillon's middle name would be Andrew, after his father's middle name. I think it fits perfectly. :-)
Although I miss my grandfather, I know his legacy is being carried on through Dillon. I never take it for granted, and it makes my heart warm every time I think about it.
Dillon: Thanks for being such a great son. I'm proud that you are able to carry your great grandfather's name and legacy. You are the best almost birthday present I could have ever received. Thank you! :-)