The Weight of Love

Years had passed… but everyday felt kinda same.

That old man, messy hair, wrinkled tired face, wearing same dirty old shirt… and with him was this thin lil dog.

He always walked behind him, like shadow that never wanted to leave light.

They had no home.

No family.

No extra thing.

Only they had… each other.

Old plastic bottle. Few dry breads. One big piece of cardboard.

They used it like blanket sometimes… sometimes as bed… sometimes like roof in rain.

That was their whole world.

In hot days, when sun was burning and people look for shades, they just sit and look in each other’s eyes.

Like peace lived there.

When rain came and everyone run under roofs, they both sit under trees… faces wet, eyes quiet… but okay.

And when cold nights cut like knives, and even cardboard failed… they hold each other close, like they don’t need no heater or walls.

The dog… he wasn’t just a dog.

He was friend.

Partner.

Maybe the only family left.

That lil guy understood him like words never did.

He can smell his sadness.

And when he licked his hand or wagged tail, the old man’s eyes would shine like there’s still gold in this broken world.

People looked at them weird.

Kids scared to go near.

Grown ups made faces or walked away.

But they? They didn’t care.

They wasn’t needing anyone.

They was whole together.

He was nothing without that dog.

And everything with him.

Then… one day came.

The kind of day they both feared from long time.

The dog didn’t wake up that morning.

No tail wag.

No licking his hand.

No soft noise.

Just silence.

Heavy. Still.

Old man bent down… touched his chest… whispered something in his ear. Maybe last goodbye, or maybe something he never said before.

But the dog… he didn’t answer.

Not this time.

For first time in life, that man felt more alone than ever before.

World always kicked him, true.

But this was first time… even his own heart left him behind.

He just sat. Hours maybe.

Didn’t care who passed by.

Didn’t blink much. Didn’t cry loud. Just sat like stone that broke from inside.

Then when evening light faded and street turned yellow and quiet…

He stood up. Slowly.

His hands were shaking.

But he picked up old wood pieces from junk.

Tied ropes. Laid the cardboard gently.

Then… he picked his dog up.

Tears didn’t stop.

But his hands worked soft… like he’s touching gold.

He had no money.

No car.

No map or plan.

But he had one thing respect.

He wanted to say goodbye with dignity.

He walked. One step at a time.

Every step felt like needle in chest.

Some people saw him…

Some gave sad looks… some just laughed low.

But he didn’t look back.

He didn’t need pity.

He just wanted to take his friend… to his resting place.

Dust in air.

Feet tired.

Back hurting.

But he walked.

When he tired, he sit. Looked at dog’s face. Cried a little. Then got up again.

Finally… outside the city, he found a quiet land.

Empty.

Quiet.

Just sky and dirt.

He started digging. With bare hands.

Nails broke. Fingers bled.

Still he digged.

Every handful of dirt… felt like piece of his heart falling.

Then… he placed the dog slowly in the hole.

Touched his ear one last time.

No prayer. No big words. Just silence.

Silence that now felt heavier than anything.

He filled the grave slow.

Like with each scoop of dirt… he was burying a memory, a smile, a laugh, a heartbeat.

At the end… he placed one piece of cardboard over the small grave.

Wrote one word on it with black marker:

“Friend.”

When he walked back…

He wasn’t same man no more.

His back little more bent.

His eyes never going dry again.

But one thing still stayed in him.

Loyalty.

Some people see that photo of him and his dog… and feel nothing.

Just a man with a dead dog.

But the ones who really loved someone…

The ones who know pain and quiet love…

They see a full story in it.

A story of love that even death couldn’t kill.

And I understand it.

Fully.

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