My Mother Welcomed My Uncle Home — What Happened Next Changed Everything

My uncle had just gotten out of prison, and the rest of the family turned their backs on him. Only my mom embraced him with wide arms.

When the family business went down, my uncle just said:

“Come with me.” I want to show you something.

I was so shocked when we got there that I started to cry.

When I was in fifth grade, my dad died. My mother could hardly speak on the day of his funeral because she was so sad. Before they left, relatives said merely a few words of comfort and then went their separate way. From then on, my mother worked wherever she could to send me to school and took care of us all by herself.

My

uncle, my father’s younger brother, was the only one who traveled to see us often. But after a year, he was sent to jail for hurting someone while inebriated. From then on, no one wanted anything to do with him.

They said, “Bad blood never goes away.”

They were suspicious about my uncle… We also got that look.

My uncle got out of prison ten years later.

His

relatives told him to stay away from him. “We would rather not share his shame.”

But my mother, who was used to pain, said:

“He’s still your father’s brother.” No matter what, he’s our blood.

My uncle was standing in front of the gate. He was emaciated and had a ripped rucksack over his shoulder.
My mother smiled and opened the door.

“Come in, brother.” This house will always have a space for you.

From that day on, my uncle slept in Dad’s old room. He went to work every morning and then came home in the afternoon to repair the fence, sweep the yard, and take care of the garden.

I once noticed him planting something and asked him what it was. He smiled and said,

“What I plant here will feed good hearts.”

I didn’t get it all, so I simply laughed.

Life hit me again a little while later: I lost my job, and my mother got quite sick. We were drowning in medical bills. I was sitting in the dark one night and considering selling the house when my uncle came up to me. He sat still and said in a calm voice:

“Your mother was the only one who accepted me when my brother died. It’s time for me to pay her back. Get ready and come with me.” Don’t ask questions.”

He drove us in his old automobile the next day.

We drove up a road that went up the mountains until we got to a big area of land surrounded by trees. There was a little wooden home in the middle, and flowers all around it.

“Who does this place belong to, Uncle?” I asked.

He said, “Ours.” “It’s for the family.”

He worked at several jobs after getting out of prison, saving up little by little until he could buy the acreage. He cultivated it for fifteen years and built the house, but he never told anyone.
I couldn’t say anything, so I hugged my mother as she cried.

“Uncle, why didn’t you keep that money for yourself?” I asked.
“I don’t need much,” he said. “I learned that all you need when you mess up is someone who still believes in your goodness.” This is how I show you that I trust you.

Days went by. Mom became better, maybe because she got some fresh air and tasty fruit from the orchard. I helped travelers buy them.

They said:

“These fruits taste different, sweeter.”

My uncle smiled.

“Because they were planted with thanks.”

I found an old wooden box in a corner of the house one day.
The lid had these words carved into it:

“Now that you’re reading this, I can rest in peace.”

I opened it. There was a letter with the deed to the property in my name inside:

“I may not express myself well, so I chose to plant instead.” Thank you and your mom for not turning me down when everyone else did. “Don’t be afraid of making mistakes; be afraid of losing your good heart.”

I couldn’t finish reading… I couldn’t because of the crying.

My uncle got sick months later. The doctor stated it was terminal cancer.
In the last few minutes he was in the hospital, he grasped my mother’s hand and whispered softly:

“Sister… It’s awful that Tin (me) isn’t getting married. But I’m departing with a smile. I know he understands what it means to live well now.

My uncle passed away on a calm afternoon.
There were no flowers or other niceties at the wake, and only a few neighbors came.

I stood in the middle of the garden he had planted after the burial.
The breeze moved the leaves, and I could have sworn I heard his voice:

“Don’t be angry with the world.” “Live well, and life will be good to you.”

A year later, my uncle’s garden had turned into a big farm.
We still get our food from them.
But the most important thing I got from my inheritance wasn’t the property; it was the lesson of trust and goodwill.

If my mother had turned her back on him that day like the others, we might not have had another chance.
And we would still be unhappy if it weren’t for my uncle.

That’s why I only have one answer when someone asks me who my hero is:

“My uncle, the man everyone turned down but who loved us with all his heart.”