We've lost Dolly. That news hit haaarrrrd.

I had "Jolene" stuck in my head and a strange, specific ache for a woman I never met, never spoke to, never stood in the same room with. That part surprised me more than the grief itself. How do you miss someone that much when the only thing you actually shared was a radio?

But that's not quite true. I shared her faith, though mine likely looks different from hers. I shared her desire to be and do good in this world. I shared her desire to love and help others. A lot of us did. Worldwide, people are expressing grief at her passing, and the most shocking reality of all is that social media (as far as I can see anyway) overflows with love and positivity for her - there's not a negative word to be found. That, in itself, might be a touch of a miracle these days.

She was a living illustration of a life that shined light in the darkness.

And she backed it up. She opened a theme park in the same hills she grew up poor in, mostly so her neighbors would have somewhere good to work. She started paying employees' way through college - tuition, fees, books, all of it starting on their very first day, no catch. She's been quietly mailing a book a month to kids she'll never meet, in towns she'll never visit, for decades now.

She has given generously, quietly, in so many ways. I doubt we'll ever know the extent of her generosity (I think that's pretty cool) though some of it is creeping out now that she has passed. I think about the many multi-millionaires and billionaires in this world and I hope they're paying attention. She showed us that generosity doesn't have to come by means of impoverishing ourselves. We can give out of our abundance and change the lives of so many.

She managed something I don't think gets said about her enough: she welcomed absolutely everybody without needing to push anybody else out of the way to do it. No one she ever went after. No one she ever needed to diminish to be beloved. That's rarer than it should be, and harder than it looks. Yet, she seemed to do it so naturally.

One quiet truth I marvel at is how she gave so much to so many, without giving away herself. Though she was genuine and authentic, there's the "her" underneath that wasn't for any of us, only for herself and the ones she loved most. She was always honest about that, frequently reminding us that her persona was made up, under her control, and she could do with it as she pleased.

Go rest high on that mountain, Dolly, your work is done. And the seeds you planted will bloom for a long time. I'm grateful for you, and you will be missed. That's a fiLLLed life.

Live a fiLLLed life, Melissa