[Pet Loss Journal] Since the day I lost my beloved cat... A month of hell and the changing shape of my heart

The pain of losing an animal family member is often harder for others to understand than when losing a human family member. I think many people refrain from sharing their burden of grief for fear of being wounded further by comments like, "It was just a pet..."

That is precisely why I want people to know that losing someone who is "precious" to you—even if they are not human—is an incredibly painful and agonizing experience. With that in mind, I have written about my own raw, real-life journey through pet loss and the shifting of my heart.

Of course, the way we experience grief varies from person to person, but since there are cases where people are hurt even more by well-meaning words from those around them after pet loss, I would be happy if this article could serve as an opportunity to think about how to offer support and kind words to those who have lost an animal family member.

Right after the loss, I couldn't stop crying, no matter what I did

My beloved cat, Gigi, left for the sky on May 16, 2025. Because we were able to have the cremation at a pet funeral home that felt truly loving toward animals rather than just professional, my heart felt strangely light right after the ceremony.

She had been suffering from fluid in her chest and having trouble breathing, so I felt relieved, thinking, "I'm glad she can finally be comfortable."

However, while time can be a medicine, it can also be a poison. The next morning, as soon as I woke up and thought, "Gigi is gone starting today," I was hit by a wave of intense loneliness and sorrow.

At the time, I recorded that anguish in my diary:

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Everything about daily life feels meaningless. Work doesn't matter. Money, even my own food.

I managed to sleep with sleeping pills. It’s easier when I’m asleep.

I can’t believe she’s gone.

At treat time, even though I know she isn’t here, I call her name just like when she was alive, and then I cry.

I feel like if I just wait a little longer, she’ll come running over with that cute, horse-like trot of hers, but no matter how long I wait, she never comes.

Only after she’s gone do I truly realize the magnitude of her existence.

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Back then, I cried every night while holding her urn. The feeling of "I'm sorry I couldn't save you" was so strong, and I was just incredibly lonely.

The average lifespan of a Munchkin is about 10 years. So, ever since Gigi turned seven, I had been imagining the day we would say goodbye, and I thought I had prepared myself. But when that day actually came, the grief was beyond anything I had imagined.

HAPPY Birthday🍰
Happy 11th birthday, Gigi.
This year, if even one timing of our medical treatments had been off, there’s a high chance we wouldn't have reached today, so I am extra happy that we made it.

Thank you for being part of our family for over 10 years. Keep living your own cat life from here on out, too. pic.twitter.com/rgVRZkKx6e

— Yua | Writer🖊 (@yunc24291) February 13, 2025

At the same time, for some reason, I felt a sense of urgency, telling myself, "I have to get over this soon." Whenever my husband caught me crying while holding the urn, I would just laugh and brush it off, saying, "I guess I still have some tears left."

When that happened, my husband would say, "It’s okay to cry as much as you want. Cry as much as you need to. You were together for 11 years, so it’s only natural to be sad."

In my case, I had been binding my own heart with the idea of "how I should be," so being given permission by someone else to keep crying was a relief; it made me realize, "It's okay to cry."

A period of listlessness followed the tears

However, even after I gave myself permission to cry, a period of listlessness continued. I wanted to go out because being at home was painful—it made me painfully aware that I now only had two cats—but I didn't have the energy to step outside.

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I don't want to do anything. I don't want to go out. I don't even want to go shopping.

But being at home is also hard. It forces me to face the reality that Gigi is gone.

There is nowhere I want to be. There is no place where my heart can feel at peace.

I don't want to live in this reality.

I’d rather follow her, but I know Gigi wouldn’t want that, and she’d probably be angry if I did. I spend my days thinking about it and then stopping myself.

Did I make a good owner? Maybe if she had lived with someone else, she might have lived longer.

I kill time solely by playing escapist video games. I don't want to do anything but play games.

My heart is filled only with a sense of loss. It feels empty.

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During this period, I ended up staying inside all the time. My husband would invite me out for a change of pace, but I would turn him down, saying I just didn't have the heart to enjoy it.

Back then, I felt guilty for turning down his kind invitations, but looking back now, I think if I had forced myself to go out, I would have just exhausted myself trying to act cheerful. I'm glad I followed my heart's needs.

Self-destructive days where eating once a day was normal

Eventually, I convinced myself with the plausible excuse that "I'm busy with work," and fell into a routine of eating only once a day. I barely managed to eat dinner only because I thought, "My husband is eating, so I have to cook."

That’s how little I cared about myself. Nothing tasted good, so eating became nothing more than a mechanical chore of feeding.

I have a heart condition and I’m not very strong, so I really should have been avoiding alcohol, but I started drinking canned chu-hai late into the night on weekends.

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Playing games until dawn to kill time is the easiest way. Even when I take sleeping pills, I wake up in the early morning anyway.

Drinking alcohol helps me escape reality in a fuzzy, clouded state.

If it helps me forget the loss and the sadness, then anything will do.

I feel like it’s wrong to Gigi if I’m enjoying myself.

I feel like it’s wrong to start being able to live a life without her.

She was so kind; I know she wouldn’t think that, but I’m terrified of the very act of enjoying myself.

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Around this time, feelings of guilt would sprout whenever I laughed at something trivial. I would also get frustrated with myself, wondering how I could laugh when Gigi wasn't there.

In the life where Gigi is gone, I shouldn't be doing anything fun. I shouldn't be smiling.

I felt that if I laughed, Gigi would think, "I guess you're fine without me," and feel lonely, so I struggled to stay in a state of "nothingness."

Facing death was so painful that I averted my eyes from the "urn"

Living those self-destructive, tear-filled days, even looking at the urn became painful.

I wanted to make her altar look beautiful and lively. But looking at the urn made my heart ache. So, I started averting my eyes from it.

It was a mental resistance—an unwillingness to accept the fact that Gigi had passed away.

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The flowers I decorated the altar with started to wilt, so I threw them away. I didn't buy new ones.

Because no matter what I do, Gigi won't come back.

I know. I know that turning a blind eye doesn't change the reality that "Gigi is gone."

But I felt like if I just kept pretending, maybe something would change.

No, that's not it. I just wanted it to change. I wanted her to be alive. I wanted her to still be by my side. I didn't want her to leave me behind.

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The sadness of death pierces the heart so directly. For me, Gigi was the first child I brought into my home on my own, and the first I saw through to the end.

That is why confronting "sadness" so head-on broke my heart, and I struggled with how to handle these overwhelming emotions.

A change of heart after creating memorial goods…

The thing that triggered a change in my heart, which had been 100% suffering, was using an app for creating fan merchandise to make an acrylic stand and an acrylic block of Gigi.

When I showed the finished memorial goods to her urn and reported, "I made these," the words that naturally came out of my mouth were, "From now on, let’s keep making memories together like this."

Through these words, I realized the root cause of the suffering hidden deep within my heart.

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I see. I was afraid and sad because I thought I wouldn't be able to make any more memories with Gigi.

I thought that when they die, the memories you can create drop to zero, and that's the end.

But I realized that maybe I can keep creating memories in a form like this.

I’ll show her, "Look what I made," and tell her about it.

I’ll tell her we’re always together, that she’s always by my side.

It might just be self-satisfaction, but that’s okay.

It’s sad that I can’t touch her or see her, but even after passing away, I can continue to create memories. Forever and ever.

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Once I was able to think that way, the way I faced her urn changed as well. Instead of averting my eyes, I started keeping it by my side at all times.

Previously, I had kept the urn on an altar in the bedroom that Gigi loved, but since the weather was getting hotter, I started moving it with me to the air-conditioned room as soon as I woke up.

While I work, I place the urn on the chair where she used to "supervise" me when she was alive, so she can watch over me.

Sleeping with the urn and taking it everywhere might look strange to others, and they might think I’m still 100% consumed by grief.

But in reality, my heart has been calmer since I started keeping the urn with me. Somehow, I feel at peace, as if Gigi is right here beside me just like before.

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Today on X, I heard a story about someone taking their pet's urn on a swing and going for walks.

I see. Because they are now in their urn, there are places we can go together.

When she was alive, we were together at home, but now that she is in her urn, I can take her anywhere, and show her any view.

I can see all sorts of worlds with her and create memories in a new way.

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To be honest, the sadness and suffering haven't faded completely, but my heart is a little lighter than it was during the worst of it.

I was able to reach this point because I listened to other people's experiences with pet loss on X and found empathy in their words.

Also, giving myself the permission—almost a kind of liberation—that "It’s okay to be sad forever, it’s okay to keep crying!" was a huge help.

There are still days when I burst into tears suddenly as memories wash over me, but I don't think about "following her" anymore. If anything, I want to live my life properly so that when we reunite at the Rainbow Bridge, I’ll have so many fun stories to tell her about what happened while we were apart.

Gigi will surely be by my side in spirit, always.

While protecting my heart with a wishful comfort like that, I suppose I will continue to live my life with Gigi.

The suffering one feels after pet loss varies, but I hope my perspective is, in some small way, helpful to you if you are looking to move forward.

And if you ever find yourself blaming yourself after pet loss for "still being able to cry" or "not being able to move on," please know that this is simply proof of how much you loved your pet. I believe that as long as your heart is hurting, you don't have to push yourself too hard by telling yourself you "must move forward for their sake."

Because the essence of the sadness and pain you are feeling is nothing other than "love for your cat."

Although it is painful to face those feelings without processing or organizing them, I hope you can slowly look back on the days you spent together and find your own way to "cope with the sense of loss" that you are at peace with.

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