THE SOUNDTRACK TO MY LIFE: THANK YOU, DOLLY

In July this year, I bought myself a birthday gift.

I purchased a ticket to see the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra perform the music of Dolly Parton on September 11. It felt like the perfect way to celebrate another year around the sun. Anyone who knows me knows that Dolly's music is not just something I listen to. Her songs have been the soundtrack to my life.

Then, on August 25, I learned that Dolly Parton had passed away at the age of 80. Like millions of others around the world, the news made me sad.

We all have artists whose music we enjoy. But every now and then, there comes along an artist whose songs become intertwined with our own story. Their music accompanies us through life's seasons, helping us make sense of who we are, where we came from, and what matters most.

For me, that artist was Dolly Parton.

If I had to explain what Dolly meant to me, I would do it through her songs.

"Coat of Many Colors" is the song that has stayed with me the longest. Its message is simple but profound: our worth is not measured by what we own. Growing up, that lesson resonated deeply. The song celebrates love, sacrifice, humility, and gratitude. Every time I hear it, I am reminded that some of life's greatest riches can never be bought.

"Jolene" showcased Dolly's extraordinary gift for storytelling. Few songs capture vulnerability so honestly. In just a few verses, she transformed a universal fear into one of the most unforgettable songs ever written. The fact that people continue to connect with it decades later speaks to her ability to understand the human condition.

"I Will Always Love You" taught us that love and grace can coexist with goodbye. It remains one of the most beautiful songs ever written about letting go without bitterness. In a world that often treats endings as failures, Dolly reminded us that sometimes the highest form of love is wishing someone well as your paths diverge.

"Halos and Horns" captured something I have always believed about life. People are complicated. None of us are entirely saints or entirely sinners. We all carry both halos and horns. Dolly's genius was her refusal to see the world in black and white. She understood that human beings are imperfect, contradictory, and still worthy of compassion.

"Islands in the Stream" reminds me of the joy that great music can bring. Some songs simply make life feel lighter. They transport us back to happy moments, familiar faces, and memories that remain vivid long after the details of the day have faded. Whenever I hear that song, I am reminded of the remarkable ability music has to connect people and create lasting memories.

Then there is"Hello God."

This is not one of Dolly's most famous songs, but it may be one of the songs that speaks most directly to my heart. In a world that too often divides itself by nationality, race, politics, and religion, the song poses uncomfortable questions. Questions about injustice. Questions about suffering. Questions about why we continue to hurt one another while claiming to act in God's name.

What I have always loved about the song is its underlying message: God does not love some people more than others. God's love is not determined by nationality, ethnicity, denomination, political persuasion, or social status. Dolly approached faith with humility rather than certainty. She reminded us that perhaps we spend too much time arguing about God and too little time living out the values that faith is supposed to inspire: kindness, compassion, mercy, and love.

And then there is"You Can't Make Old Friends."

As the years pass, that song becomes more meaningful. It reminds us that some relationships acquire value simply because they have survived the journey. Time gives certain friendships a richness that cannot be replicated. Shared history becomes a kind of treasure.

When I heard the news about Dolly, one of the first people to reach out was my friend, Nana Asaa Bonful Kesse-Tachi. That simple gesture meant more than she probably knows. It was a reminder of what Dolly was singing about all along: the friends who know your story, understand what matters to you, and show up when it counts.

Nana Asaa, thank you for reaching out when you heard the news. It reminded me that some friendships are among life's greatest blessings. As Dolly said, you really can't make old friends.

What made Dolly extraordinary was not simply her talent, although she possessed that in abundance. It was her ability to give voice to the things that matter most: family, friendship, grace, resilience, humility, faith, and hope. Her songs resonated because they were deeply human.

She could write about poverty without bitterness. She could write about heartbreak without resentment. She could write about faith without judgment. She could write about friendship without sentimentality. Through it all, there was an unmistakable authenticity that made people feel seen.

In an increasingly cynical world, Dolly remained refreshingly sincere.

She never seemed embarrassed by kindness. She never apologized for believing in people. She never abandoned the values that shaped her. Whether she was singing about a handmade coat, a difficult goodbye, an old friend, or a conversation with God, she approached each subject with the same warmth, wisdom, and humanity.

That may be why the loss feels so personal to so many people.

When I take my seat at the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra performance on September 11, it will not be the experience I imagined when I bought the ticket. What I expected to be a celebration of a living legend will now feel like a tribute.

But perhaps that is fitting.

Dolly spent her life giving us songs for every season of life. Songs for growing up. Songs for falling in love. Songs for making mistakes. Songs for holding on. Songs for letting go. Songs for friendship. Songs for faith. Songs for remembering where we came from.

And although Dolly is gone, the music remains.

For many of us, her songs will continue to echo through our memories, marking the people we loved, the lessons we learned, and the lives we have lived.

Thank you, Dolly.

Thank you for the wisdom of "Coat of Many Colors."

For the vulnerability of "Jolene."

For the grace of "I Will Always Love You."

For the honesty of "Halos and Horns."

For the joy of "Islands in the Stream."

For the humanity of "Hello God."

And for the reminder, through "You Can't Make Old Friends," that some of life's greatest gifts are the people who walk beside us through the years.

Your songs helped many of us understand our own stories a little better.

And for some of us, they became the soundtrack to our lives.