“Grandma” Dolly passed away last Wednesday, or as we like to say in some Christian circles, “went home.” She’d had 85 amazing years, few of which were easy and some that were filled with unbearable-sounding tragedy, yet she was just about the bubbliest and most positive person I’ve ever known.
She wasn’t really my grandma, but probably 90% of the people who called her that weren’t actually related to her. She was simply grandmother to our church and one of the first people to welcome me in when I started coming 20 years ago. You knew you’d been blessed when you received a “Dolly cake” or cookies. She liked to greet women she knew by calling them, “little chickens” and often when passing by me she’d reach out and pat my shoulder or back and say, “John, I love ya – and I kind of like ya, too!” A few minutes later I’d hear her say the same thing to someone else further down the hallway. She was best friends for 60-some years with Della, who died a few years ago, and we chuckled last week when we realized that Dolly had passed away on Della’s birthday and was going to make it to heaven in time for the party. Her visitation last Sunday afternoon was as happy and chatty as a graduation open house, and for many of the same reasons.
My sympathies.