The foster mother looked at him. “You’re welcome to come by anytime. I think Sophie just found someone who understands loss.”

Over the next few weeks, Aaron visited often. He brought Lulu food, toys, and sometimes just sat with them both.

One rainy evening, Sophie asked softly, “Mr. Aaron, do you ever go to the cemetery?”

He nodded. “Sometimes. My brother’s there.”

She smiled faintly. “Then maybe Lulu and I can come too. Mom would like that.”

The next morning, they rode together — Aaron on his Harley, Sophie holding Lulu in a small jacket.

At the cemetery, the puppy jumped from her arms and ran straight to the same grave, tail wagging wildly.

Sophie knelt beside her mother’s tombstone. “Hi, Mom,” she whispered. “We came back.”

Aaron stood behind them, rain misting over his shoulders, a lump rising in his throat.

The groundskeeper walked by and whispered to him, “I’ve seen many people cry here, but never like that.”

Aaron nodded, voice breaking. “Sometimes the smallest ones show us the biggest love.”