2026.08.25 Dolly Parton Died

Last night, I woke up every hour on the hour. Brent, RJ, and I agreed to make breakfast tacos for Taco Tuesday at Patriots’ Hall. Marcus made most of The Meats ahead of time, but we had to make the hash browns, the eggs, and heat the meats to assemble the tacos so our veterans would have a “healthy” breakfast. My alarm went off at 5am, but I was already awake. 

Brent and I got up, showered, and were out the door. We got to the Crimson Creek food trailer at 6am. Marcus & Jamie were out of town, but they graciously offered to let us use their industrial kitchen to make 100+ breakfast tacos for the men and women who’ve served our country.

Let’s start at the previous night. Because I know my husband.

Me: “What time do we need to leave tomorrow?”

B: “Right around 6am.”

Me: “Before or after?”

B: “I’d like to be there by 6am.”

Me: “So 5:50am.”

B: “Yes.”

Me: walks away then yells from the bedroom, “THAT WAS HARDER THAN IT NEEDED TO BE.” 🙄

B: “I’M SORRY I AM THE WAY I AM.” 🤦🏻‍♀️😆🙃

Mission accomplished (there on time), and we went to work. I thought I was there to supervise and point. I was not. I was there to cook. I may have actually commandeered that position from RJ (because I am the way I am). I had a giant Blackstone flat-top grill, a full propane tank, and nothin’ in my way. The last time I cooked on a flat-top was at Alamo Drafthouse in 2006. You can take the girl outta the restaurant, but….

Pulled pork and pork belly were precooked by Marcus. I did the ham, the hash browns, and six cartons of eggs (which I’d never done on a flat top, but muscle memory, babies!!!). We set up an assembly line to make the tacos, and I feel like our Taco Tuesday was pretty epic. There’s a video somewhere of our chatter whilst preparing that may or may not ever be released to the public.

Taco Tuesday went off without a hitch, and many of the veterans complemented us on the tacos. It was really fun for me. I was in the restaurant business for years, and I truly loved it. I liked waiting tables. I liked bartending. I liked managing. I like being at PH and serving veterans, taking their plates, and getting them more coffee or juice. Acts of service are my love language, and doing things like this fills my cup. My “Karma Bucket,” so to speak.

After coming home and relaxing for a bit, we went to The League. That’s our local “chill and network” spot. We’d been there for a bit, I went to the restroom, and when I came back, Brent said, “I ordered you another drink. I wasn’t going to tell you until we got in the truck, but you’re going to find out before then. Dolly Parton died.” I put my hands over my face and cried. This woman. This woman who I have idolized my entire life. This woman who is the epitome of kindness, acceptance, and grace has left this earthly plane. And I just can’t accept it. 

Grief is an enigma. It sometimes feels like it’s a small container when it’s a loved one - a pet, a parent, a partner, a child. But when it’s a celebrity, what do you do with it then? How do you grieve? I think I grieve Dolly like she was an aunt - someone close, someone I admired. But it’s different. When my parents died, there weren’t that many people grieving with me, all things considered. When it’s someone like Dolly, there are millions. That doesn’t make her death any more or less “important”. To me, it just sends a few more prayers and angels to open their arms and do the work. Because our world - and mostly our country - needs it now more than ever.

Thank you, Dolly Parton, for all of the joy and love you spread. #godspeed