Dear Dolly
Dear Dolly:
You inspired me to write. I haven’t written in almost 8 months, but one of the many things you taught the world is to create when inspiration comes knocking. You wrote Jolene after seeing Carl flirt with a bank teller and feeling the pangs of jealousy. You wrote I Will Always Love You while grieving your departure from your business partnership with your mentor, Porter Wagoner. You even found the rhythm for 9 to 5 by tapping your acrylic nails, which reminded you of the sound of a typewriter. However, while your passing has inspired me to write, it is your life that I want to focus on.
As you may have expected, you have been all over the news and social media. It is not surprising to hear the incredible stories and heartfelt condolences people are sharing. Even though I didn’t know you personally, I knew of you from a young age. I remember my grandma listening to Islands In the Stream on her oversized veneered radio cabinet. I remember your over-the-top outfits and wigs and the discussions they sparked in my family. I also remember when The Bodyguard was released in 1992 and learning that you were the one who wrote I Will Always Love You. I was confused; even at ten, I had bought into the belief that someone who looked the way you did couldn’t also be so wildly talented. But that intrigued me. It intrigued me enough to follow your life with interest as I grew up. What I learned about you—and what is being validated now—is this:
You committed yourself to a creative life
Your creativity was one of the many gifts you shared with the world. Thank you for your commitment to a creative life; it is perhaps the part of your legacy that has impacted me the most. From a young age, you knew you wanted to be a star, and you followed that path with unwavering focus. Creativity is scary because it requires putting the deepest parts of yourself on display for others to judge. You wrote I Will Always Love You during a painful, personal time. You didn’t have to share it, but you did. You taught us to share our ideas, gifts, and talents with the world—even when it is scary—because we can never predict how those gifts will touch others.
You stayed true to you
You had the talent to write the songs and the courage to share them, but you also had the strength to keep your publishing rights. Even when presented with the opportunity for Elvis to sing I Will Always Love You —the chance of a lifetime—you turned it down because his manager insisted on owning half the publishing rights. It is reported that you cried all night after that decision, but as we know, it turned out pretty well for you. You later joked that Whitney’s version made you enough money to buy Graceland. This remains such an important lesson in knowing your worth. We, especially women, are often bombarded with "shoulds": how we should look, act, talk and be. You didn’t care about the "shoulds"; you knew who you were and never deviated from your truth.
You were pretty and beautiful
Throughout your life, people had many opinions on your appearance, but you always had a definitive vision for yourself. You often told the story of seeing a woman in town as a little girl—with big hair and long nails—and thinking she was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. Your mom called her "cheap trash," but you decided right then, "That’s who I want to look like!" You knew that pretty is subjective, but beauty is not. While pretty focuses on outward appearance, beauty emanates from within. You exemplified the kind of beauty author Glennon Doyle describes so perfectly:
“Beautiful means ‘full of beauty.’ Beautiful is not about how you look on the outside. Beautiful is about what you’re made of. Beautiful people spend time discovering what their idea of beauty on this earth is. They know themselves well enough to know what they love, and they love themselves enough to fill up with a little of their particular kind of beauty each day. [Beautiful women] will be so full of beauty that you will feel some of it overflow onto you.”
You taught us that beautiful women glow, and your beauty was so immense it overflowed onto everyone around you. You didn't just care about how you looked; you cared about how you made others feel. You spent your life making the world a warmer, kinder place.
You chose love
I have read many examples of where you chose love in your life. Of course there is the loving relationship you had with Carl. You chose to love each other for nearly 59 years - a love that didn’t require you to sacrifice filling up on your “particular kind of beauty each day.” But you chose love beyond your romantic relationships. Like when your business partner Porter Wagoneer sued you for leaving his show. You could have held a grudge, but instead ended up helping him out of his financial troubles later in life when he needed it. You could have chosen greed and to accumulate more wealth, but instead invested millions to causes that benefited literacy, healthcare and conservation efforts. You taught us to choose love when it wasn’t the easy choice, but the right choice.
Thank you for leading such a fearless life filled with creativity, authenticity, beauty and love. Your life was and will continue to be an inspiration for me.
-Kristy
