Fyodor Petrovich had long hoped to visit his son’s resting place. For years, his health made the journey too difficult. But one morning, feeling stronger than usual, he decided the time had come. His tools and paint had been prepared for months, waiting for a day like this.
Two months earlier, he had noticed that the fence around his son’s grave was leaning, and the small gate had begun to sag. It wasn’t surprising—almost a decade had passed since Sasha had been laid to rest.
Sasha wasn’t his biological son, but Fyodor had loved him as his own. He and his wife had spent two decades together without children before deciding to adopt. At the orphanage, a quiet, sad-eyed five-year-old boy named Sasha immediately caught their attention.
“Why is that boy always alone?” Fyodor asked.
“Sasha is special,” replied a staff member. “His mother left him here several months ago. It was very hard on him. Since then, he’s become withdrawn.”
Fyodor and his wife couldn’t look away. They began visiting the boy regularly. Though he joined them on walks and accepted treats, his eyes remained guarded. It took nearly a year for Sasha to trust them.
One evening, he looked up and asked, “Will you really never leave me?”
“Never,” Fyodor promised.
Sasha blossomed into a kind, respectful young man. He worked hard at school and eventually entered military training—rare in their small village. Fyodor and his wife were deeply proud. Sasha returned home on holidays not to relax, but to help his parents. Later, due to illness, he was discharged from service. He grew quieter over time, and his health deteriorated. Tragically, he passed away, and soon after, Fyodor’s wife also passed, leaving him alone.
On this morning, Fyodor stepped outside with Buyan, his loyal dog of many years. Buyan, now old and slow, mirrored Fyodor in many ways.
“Shall we go visit Sashenka?” he asked the dog. Buyan wagged his tail, understanding the sentiment.
As they walked through the village, neighbors greeted him kindly.
“Should you be doing all that work yourself?” asked Marya Stepanovna.
“Well, there’s no one else to ask,” Fyodor replied with a faint smile.
Reaching the cemetery, he noticed signs of a recent storm—branches scattered across the ground. As he began cleaning, Buyan suddenly started to dig near the old fence. He barked and whimpered, drawing Fyodor’s attention.
Beneath the soil, Fyodor discovered a small cardboard box. To his shock, something inside moved. He opened it and found a tiny baby girl, wrapped in cloth, barely making a sound.
Realizing the urgency, he scooped her up and rushed to the home of Olga Sergeyevna, the village’s retired medic. Buyan ran ahead, barking nonstop. Fyodor, though out of breath and aching, didn’t stop until he reached her door.
Olga acted quickly, providing care and calling an ambulance. The baby was stabilized, and the authorities were notified. A crowd gathered, offering help and comfort.
The next day, a stranger came to Fyodor’s home. He introduced himself as Herman—the baby’s grandfather.
“My daughter passed during childbirth,” he explained. “Her husband… made terrible choices. I only found out after. Thankfully, he’s been arrested. That little girl is all I have left.”
With heartfelt gratitude, Herman left a box of supplies and enough money to repair the grave site. Two weeks later, Fyodor—now stronger—returned to the cemetery, planning to fix the fence.
But when he arrived, he was stunned. A beautiful new memorial stood in place of the old one: black wrought-iron fencing, polished white gravel, and elegant headstones bearing the names of his beloved wife and son.
It was Herman’s gift.
Fyodor sat between the graves on a newly placed bench.
“Well, my dears,” he whispered, “everything’s in place now.”
That evening, Buyan returned home alone. Worried, Marya Stepanovna gathered neighbors and hurried to the cemetery. There, they found Fyodor, seated on the bench, peaceful and smiling. He had passed away quietly.
Herman arranged the funeral with care and respect. Buyan refused to leave the gravesite, staying near Fyodor day after day. Two years later, the faithful dog also passed and was buried beside his lifelong friend, forever part of the family he had loved.
