About 14 days before my mother's death, she suddenly became obsessed with what color of impatiens should decorate her front yard.
It was late June, too late to plant, I thought.
But she insisted.
So we made the journey to find the right color, the last batch of impatiens that would ever be lovingly and neatly tucked into the soil in front of my parents' home.
I recall that day so vividly.... just like it was last summer. In reality, it was 26 years ago.
I remember my mother's shoes. Gold Capezio slip-ons. I remember the Van Gogh yellow two piece ensemble she was wearing. Flowy, cotton pants, the top had a boatline neck with short-sleeves, the oufit was patterned with an abundance of big golden rays of sunshine.
She was carrying a huge straw bag.
A fashionable lady always changed her winter bag to a summer bag after the long weekend in May.
Even if she was dying of cancer and weighed only 87 pounds.
That afternoon was very hot and so we decided to walk through the mall first and have something cool to drink. It was the same mall my mother had worked in for 12 years.
Our family lead a small life.
There were no grand vacations for us.
No twenty-fifth anniversary celebrations, no around the world cruises.
We lived our lives through television.
My father worked shifts at a local factory. To this day, I could mark off on a calendar when my father worked from 3 in the afternoon to 11 in the evening.
I rejoiced when those afternoon shifts rolled around.
It was then and only then that the television was mine, all mine.
All I have ever needed to be be happy back then was a good sit-com.
"The Mary Tyler Moore Show" had all the ingredients. It was smartly-written, Mary had a great job and even greater friends, and one swell apartment with a closet chock full of fabulous clothes.
Like all fifteen-year-old girls in the 1970's, my wardrobe consisted of a pair of Levis which I wore all week (laundered on Wednesday evening) and rotated haphazardly with various sweaters.
And then along came Mary Richards and her inimitable style.
All of a sudden, I wanted to be fashionable. I wanted to dress like a modern woman. Up until that time, no actress on television had ever looked as relevant to her career and to the times she lived in as Mary Tyler Moore.
After every episode, I would cull through my mother's closet and she and I would put together outfits for me to wear to school.
Soon those Levis were banished to the back of my closet.
My 7 year-old brother would stare at me and shaking his head would ask me why I wanted to be like MERRILY Tyler Moore.
Decades later, and two years prior to my mother's death, I was lucky enough to meet another woman who adored fashion as much as I did and we opened a boutique together.
My mother was one of our best customers and I loved helping her pick her new wardrobe out as she made her way through our many racks of designer clothes.
And then she got sick.
Try as I might, I have no memories of the color of impatiens we chose for her flowerbeds or if we even made it to the nursery that sweltering afternoon.
I just remember these words she said to me.
"Those days, when you were in high school and we would watch our shows together, you know, like Mary Tyler Moore and that, well, those were the happiest times of my life, and I just wanted you to know that."
Like I said, our family lead a small life.
We watched actors play our lives out on our television screen.
My mother passed away on July 11th, 1991.
She was buried in a Gianni Versace dress chosen by me.
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