My Dolores

Dear Grammie,

Let me start by saying — you’ve always been my heart and soul. I never imagined I’d lose my favorite girl so soon. You’ve been there for me through everything, and I’ve always wanted to make you proud. When they told me you had passed away, I wanted to drop to my knees and ask, How can this be?

I had been anxiously waiting for November 3 so I could call and say, “Happy birthday, Grammie!” Instead, I got the worst news of my life. My grandmother, Dolores Bailey, had gone home to be with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I knew I shouldn’t be sad, but I couldn’t help it — the one person I loved most was gone.

Everywhere I turn, I see your angelic face — a face I’ve seen all my life — and you will always live in my memories.

I remember when I was a little girl and wanted to spend the night with you every weekend. You’d try to get me to sleep in the other bedrooms, but I’d pout until you pulled out the rollaway bed or made me a pallet right next to you. I remember us praying together while “There’s a God Who Knows It All” played softly in the background.

I remember my teenage years, too, and the dresses you’d buy that hugged my body. You always said, “You have a beautiful shape and a beautiful face.” Even though I hated wearing dresses, I loved seeing your smile and the twinkle in your eyes.

When I got pregnant, you took me to my appointments and stayed right by my side. When I had my C-section, you were there. Before I went to prison, I made sure to visit you every day. And while I was inside, I called you as often as I could, just so we could reminisce.

We’d talk about our bonding moments, like when I gave you pedicures. I’d sit on the floor clipping your nails, and you’d look over your glasses at me until I heard you shout, “Ouch! You’re making me bleed!” And I’d say, “Grammie, shhh — it’s just a little blood.” I’d laugh, and you’d always respond, “I’m not letting you touch me again.” But sure enough, the next week, you’d be asking me to do your feet again.

For the past 12 years, I’ve been trying to get home to you. I still yearn for your touch and miss that beautiful smile. I don’t know how to deal with you not being here. I catch myself wanting to call you, but I can’t. Wanting to hear your voice, but I can’t. I want to feel your loving arms around me, to give you one last kiss goodbye, but I can’t.

You were my purpose, Grammie. My reason to come home. And I will keep fighting to make it back. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to say goodbye.

But you always said, “Never say goodbye — because goodbyes are forever.” So instead, I’ll say: See you again one day, when God calls me home.

You will never be forgotten. I pray that one day I will be even half the woman you were. You’ll always be the most precious woman in the world to me. Loving you for life.

Your granddaughter, Rese