Dolores Natalie Rose

Dolores Natalie Rose, aged 39 and holding, of Northridge, CA, passed away on Tuesday, July 25, 2017 (2 Av 5777). Dolores was born August 30, in Brooklyn, New York. Dolores is survived by her son, Robert Rose; and her daughter, Michele (Alan) Rose-Naggar. Dolores was preceded in death by her beloved husband, Henry Rose-OBM; her son, William (Leslie) Rose-OBM, and her daughter, Robin Sheryl Rose-OBM.

A graveside service for Dolores will be held Thursday, August 3, 2017 at 11:00 AM at Eden Memorial Park, 11500 Sepulveda Blvd, Mission Hills, CA, 91345. Services will be officiated by Rabbi Michael Barclay. Eulogies and memories will NOT be shared at graveside, per Dolores's wishes. Family and friends are invited to share their fond memories and expressions of sympathy in the virtual guest book of this online obituary. www.gromanedenmortuary.com. Flowers are being accepted.

Dolores, or Babe, as she was also referred to, was a devoted mother, wife, and best friend. She was Mom in every sense of the word, and spoke of her kids to everyone she knew. She was an avid lover of food, dogs, music, and all forms of entertainment, especially television. Dolores always focused on the modern, and her desire to stay current amazed her contemporaries. As her kids grew up, she did not choose to listen to the music she experienced as a youth, instead she always wanted to listen to the music of the times. She took that to amazing heights when she let her youngest son's rock n' roll band use her living room as a place to practice. Yikes! She did not allow kids to sit on the sofas, but a three piece band in the middle of the room, was no problem! As long as there was space for her to do The Twist to the tunes, all was OK. In later years, it was no longer The Twist, it was "twerking". She would twerk for anyone, at a moment's notice. The best memory of Dolores though was her ability to bring Humah (humor) to any situation. She always said that her true calling was that of a standup comic!

Arrangements under the direction of Groman Eden Mortuary, Mission Hills, CA.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

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Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas