Whitesburg KY
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Mostly sunny
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In Appreciation

 

 

In appreciation to all who were there for us in the loss of our wife, mother, and nan, Jean A. Blair. May God bless them all (P-nut) Benson Blair, Debbie Fugate, and Terry Dixon and grandkids. “Yesterday we all gathered once more ‘over on the mountain’ to lay my Aunt Jean to rest. While it was a dreary day, I couldn’t help but notice how bright and colorful the blanket of leaves made the ground, and it reminded me of her. Warm, compassionate, and a bit of a spitfire, she could brighten up any room. We’ve all joked you might not be able to see Jean, but you’ll definitely hear her! “Jean never met a stranger. She could tell you anything about a person . . . genealogy, history, and of course a little gossip. Over the past week we have shed many tears, but we’ve also laughed into the wee hours telling tales and sharing memories. Her shorty-shorts she cut the grass in, the time she and Pnut got locked INSIDE of the house, the fact that she decorated every square inch but NOTHING had dust on it and looked professionally styled, her wacky jewelry collection, the kinky tight curl perms she had to have, her fondness for The Mountain Mission, to name a few. “Jean would proudly show off her three-dollar articles of clothing, but always made them look like a million bucks. She also loved her flowers and taught most of us all the botany we know. Her vast knowledge has guided us all through transplanting trees or baking a pone of cornbread, or matching curtains to the couch . . . and when we made the wrong choice she’d let us know rather quickly. “I even heard through the grapevine that she was a bit salty that my Boston Fern was doing better than hers this year! I assured her it was only because of something she had taught me. I’m sure she still threw some shade. “The loss of Jean leaves a huge void in all of our hearts. There are many tears to be shed, many sorrows still to be felt. Family gatherings will be a little more quiet, yet she will live on. The laugh of a grandchild, the squeals of a great-grandchild, the blooms of her flowers, the shrill bark of Snuggles, the blood of her daughters, the love in the heart of Pnut, the precious memories of us all.”

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