Lu – the chubby, gentle, and loyal dog – used to be the little morning joy of the neighborhood. Everyone knew the sight: an elderly man with a kind smile, gently pushing a wheelchair, and Lu sitting calmly in front. The two old souls – one man, one dog – were inseparable, weaving through the peaceful rhythm of daily life.

Lu didn’t know how to read time, nor did he need a calendar. But every morning, as the sun peeked through the windows, Lu would sit by the door waiting. His round eyes, wagging tail, and perked-up ears seemed to ask, “Where are we going today, Grandpa?” And like clockwork, the old man would smile, grip the handles, and wheel Lu out for their little adventure.

But today… there is only silence.
No creaking wheels on the pavement.
No soft laughter or gentle coaxing, “Let’s go, Lu.”
No one comes to open the door.

Lu still waits. At first, it was hope. Then came confusion. And slowly, a quiet sadness settled in. When the casket was placed in the middle of the funeral room, people saw Lu – no longer in the wheelchair, but lying beside the altar, eyes filled with sorrow deeper than words can say. No one told Lu what to do. Yet he knew. And he stayed, not moving an inch. Like a true family member.

Maybe Lu is wondering if Grandpa got lost somewhere?
Maybe he ended up in a place called “Forever Meeting” or “The Faraway Land”?
Maybe he’s just buried under a mountain of laundry and hasn’t made it back yet?

Still, Lu waits – just like every other day. But this time, his beloved friend will not return.

Because some kinds of love need no words, no promises – just presence.
And some goodbyes are so heavy, no amount of tears can ease them… because half of your soul is gone.

Rest peacefully, Lu’s dearest old friend.
Lu will still be here – guarding the door, watching the house, and protecting the memory of you, like a little angel without wings. 🐾