As we attempt to recall where she was born, from which high school she graduated, and the name of that business school she attended over 55 years ago, we find that the history is blurred by a more colorful and altogether more interesting recent past. And so, she was born in the mid-west on April 26, 1940, with her mom, Alice Hauan, and died here, in Marcellus, NY on July 19, 2015, with me (her daughter) and two of her grand daughters.

She lived at our house for her last 4 months, where the Mullan clan hung out with her and took care of her, building more sweet and special memories that help to sustain us. We were fortunate to have our 'Lita' (her most recent and treasured name, shortened from Spanish 'abuelita') as long as we did, and she was fortunate to have the love and adoration of some pretty amazing people - the family she raised, loved, yelled at, helped, played bingo with, taught to crochet, brought to the movies, had sleep-overs for, cooked for, baked bread with, told stories to and all the rest of it that you just can't capture.

Did I mention she has dyed her hair purple for almost 10 years? How did that even happen? I imagine much like all the other life events that one doesn't plan for when growing up – the early death of a spouse (she was pre-deceased by our dad, Thomas Patrick Mullan, in 1998) or being able to winter in Las Vegas and mac out on bingo, or moving across the country to live near your family. All those events – planned and unplanned – add up to living. And it is in that living that she ignited those little embers of crazy in all of us that allow us to be just a bit different and just a bit more daring.

She told us all, "When the money starts rolling in, I'm going to buy a purple convertible and dye my hair purple." The grandkids watched and waited, fully expecting the money to start rolling in. And then one day she pulled up in front of my house behind the wheel of a Sebring convertible with the top down - the car wasn't purple, but her hair sure was.

Sometimes we take as many bits of the dream as we can so we can live them for a while, rather than wait around for all of it and end up living none of it. Although the money never did start rolling in, she was willing to boldly live part of the dream. It made her rich beyond measure. The cliché is not lost on me, but I watched her build relationships with each of us – her four children: Todd (Maria), Mike (Cheryl), Maury (Olga) and Pam (Alan) and our various friends and significant others over the years, as well as with her eight grand children: Amanda, Duncan, Susana, Andrew, Alison, Zoë, Jordan, Kimberly and her two great-grand children: Duncan Jr. and Sylvia Naomi.

Of course there are many more of you, family and friends, who were touched by her life's journey through Thompson and Mason City Iowa, Whittier, CA, and Red Creek, NY and who were possibly even partners in crime, because, alas, as we all know: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas! I watched the attention she paid to you, her important friends and extended family members. I also watched the everyday interactions with strangers, which often included lines like, "I love your purple hair" and "You made my day". She made peoples' day because she was badass enough to don Joker-purple hair!

Through the years there were many shades of purple hair, all with whimsical names. But what you need to know is that the last and best, "Pimpin Purple", was discovered on her final trip to Las Vegas 5 months ago, where the Dream Team (you know who you are) rescued her from the hospital to bring her home. I asked hospice to include the hair dye on their list of non-covered prescriptions...she liked that!

Her oncologist (whom she loved and whom she won over completely) told me, "I've never met anyone like your mom." I know he meant it in the best way possible. He hadn't expected her to live much past Christmas the year of her diagnosis, but it was three years (and several trips to Las Vegas) before mortality found her, in a second floor bedroom of an old house, on a side street in Marcellus, NY – hair still purple. Muy bonita.

And like many families, we wonder what will happen with this matriarchy now that our matriarch is gone? And who will bake cinnamon bread and make the gravy just right? No one. Ever. Not even your mom because, sadly, that's how these things work.

There will be no funeral, as per her wishes. There may, however; be a bon fire later in the year involving fire works, hair dye, and potato salad. Just sayin'. Because she can't stop us from having a party and sharing 'Lita' stories, just the way she has shared so many stories with all of us all these years.

If you feel moved to do something in honor of our Mom/Grandma/Great Grandma/Lita, you can go play bingo, donate books, take the trip you have been putting off, or do whatever part of your dream you can manage right now, as she did, before you find it is too late.

Read Sandra Mullan's Obituary and Guestbook on www.plisfuneralhome.com.

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