Brian David Robson

1955 - 2025

Brian David Robson

August 3, 1955 - February 10, 2025

In Remembrance of my Dad.

If you knew my dad, Brian Robson, you knew a man who lived big, laughed big, and loved big. He was the kind of person who could walk into a room and fill it with warmth, mischief, and a good story-probably one that would have you laughing so hard you'd be wiping away tears by the end. He had a way of making everything feel grand, of turning even the simplest moments into something worth remembering. That was the Robson way.

Dad grew up in a time when friendships weren't maintained through screens but by swinging by a buddy's house, grabbing a cold drink, and catching up. Those connections meant the world to him. He wasn't the kind of man to let relationships fade-he held on to them, nurtured them, made them a priority. If you were in his circle, you knew it, because he made sure you felt it.

He had a streak of orneriness a mile wide, and I think we all have at least one story, if not a dozen, about some wild scheme he cooked up, some harmless prank, some adventure that started out simple but quickly became one for the books. Storytelling was one of his greatest gifts, and he used it well. Whether it was reminiscing about days in the oil fields of Montana, to his time running heavy equipment, or the many escapades with family and friends, Dad had a way of making every tale come alive.

Dad had a deep appreciation for the good things in life-good music, good food, and good company. If you played some Chris Stapleton and handed him a plate of BBQ, some good Nebraska sweet corn and a side of ice cream, he was a happy man. He loved long drives in the country, trips to Bomgaars, bird hunting, Husker football, the mountains of Montana, welding, and tinkering in the shop with his grandson Miles. And let's not forget Buster, his faithful four-legged sidekick of 11 years, always close by, always loyal.

Above all else, Dad was a family man. I am his only child with my mom, his first wife, Mary (Grant) Young. He was my biggest cheerleader. Teaching me many lessons about life, love and happiness. I will always cherish our close relationship and the time we spent together. He married Mary Nixon in 2007, and in doing so, gained an additional family that welcomed him with open arms. Between them, they had 14 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren, each one a source of pride and joy. His bonds with his grandkids were special, from those teaching moments in the shop with Miles to long country drives with Kordyn. His joy of rollerskating with me in the early years to keeping the tradition with his grandkids. He loved his family fiercely, and we all felt it.

Dad was creative, hardworking, and resourceful-always building, designing, and figuring out how to make things better. Whether it was his time in the oil fields, running heavy equipment, or designing his own pole puller for his power line demolition business, he poured his ingenuity into everything he did.

Losing him leaves a hole that can't be filled, but we carry him with us. In the laughter that erupts around the dinner table, in the stories we pass down, in the traditions we keep alive. His spirit is in every get together we throw, every connection we cherish, every moment we choose to live just a little bit bigger.

He is survived by his wife, Mary Nixon and family; by me, his daughter, Abbie Gail; and by my children, Ruby, Siddalee, and Miles. Several cousins, nieces and nephews, and two aunts. He is reunited now with his parents, Don and Marolyn (Donahoe) Robson; his brothers, Don B. and Robin Robson; my husband, Mark Kliewer; and my mom, Mary (Grant) Young.

Dad, you were a force of nature, a light in our lives, and a man we were lucky to love. We will miss you beyond words, but we will carry forward your legacy - with laughter, love, and maybe just a little bit of your orneriness.

There will be a celebration of life with family and friends at a later date.