Today Mr. Yoy's brother passed away. It was not unexpected, but it hurts all the same.
I mourn for the loss of Uncle M. He was a quiet, but sweet and kind man.
I mourn for my husband and his brothers.
I mourn for my in-laws.
I mourn for my children who will never know their Uncle.
Uncle M loved the boys. He was always the first to look at the thousands of pictures I sent out and email me back a funny comment. He was an avid reader and fan of the Mrs. Yoy Blog. He loved the daily updates of the doings of his nephews. I am saddened that someone who took such interest in their lives won't be around to see how the Yoys turn out.
So I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell a story about Uncle M.
When Mr. Yoy and I first moved into our house 5+ years ago we had builder-grade landscaping in our front yard. It wasn't ugly, it was just nothing special. Uncle M had a landscaping company and he offered to come up to Atlanta and help us out.
He sketched out a plan and we headed to the Home Depot Landscape store. We spent hours there picking out plants and trees and mulch. We loaded all of this stuff in the back of Uncle M's pickup and drove home.
He then spent the better part of the next two days in the hot Atlanta sun digging and digging and digging.
Apparently our house was built on a rock quarry, or at least it seemed to be, based on the quantities of rock we were pulling out of the soil. It was serious blood, sweat, and tears, but after two days he had planted a row of hedges, three crepe myrtles, three hydrangeas, and a slew of rose bushes, all without complaining.
This was something Mr. Yoy and I could never have done on our own and Uncle M did all of the work, free of charge. Yes, of course we helped (a little), but he was the brains behind the operation.
I was grateful when the job was complete and my front yard looked amazing.
I am even more grateful now. You see, every Spring, when my flowers and trees bloom in unison and make our house look like the botanical gardens, I will think of Uncle M and the beauty he brought to the world.
Dedicated to Uncle M. May his memory be a blessing.
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