[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 harder to understand than losing a human family member. I think there are times when people can't talk to others about their suffering because they're afraid of being hurt twice by words like "it's just a pet."

That's why I want people to know that even if it's not a human, losing someone's "precious being" is painful and distressing. With that in mind, this time I wrote about my own real feelings and emotional changes after pet loss.

Of course, how people experience grief varies from person to person, but after pet loss, there are cases where people are further hurt by well-intentioned words from those around them. So, I would be happy if this could be an opportunity to consider how to talk to and support those who have lost an animal family member.

Immediately after pet loss, I couldn't stop crying no matter what I was doing.

My beloved cat, Jiji, passed away on May 16, 2025. I was able to cremate her at a pet funeral home that felt caring rather than merely business-like, so immediately after the cremation, my heart felt light.

Her breathing had been difficult for a long time due to fluid buildup in her chest, so I thought, "It's good that she's finally at peace."

However, time can be both a medicine and a poison. The next morning, when I woke up and realized, "Jiji isn't here anymore today," a fierce loneliness and sadness overwhelmed me.

I wrote about that pain in my diary at the time:

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Everything in daily life is meaningless. My job is meaningless. Money, my own food.

I managed to sleep with a sleeping pill. It's easier when I'm asleep.

I can't believe she's gone.

At snack time, even though I know she's not there, I call her name and cry, just like when she was alive.

I feel like if I wait a little longer, she'll come running with her cute, clattering, horse-like gait, but she never comes no matter how long I wait.

After she left, I realized how much she meant to me.

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Around this time, I cried every night holding her urn. I felt a strong sense of "I'm sorry I couldn't save you," and I was incredibly lonely.

The average lifespan of a Munchkin cat is about 10 years. So, when Jiji turned 7, I tried to mentally prepare myself for the day of her passing. But when the day actually came, the sadness was far greater than I had imagined.

HAPPY Birthday🍰
11歳の誕生日おめでとう、ジジ。
今年は、どこかひとつでも治療のタイミングやが合わなかったら、今日を迎えられなかった可能性が高かったので、この日を迎えられて、余計に嬉しい。

10年以上も家族でいてくれて、ありがとう。これからも、あなたらしいニャン生を。 pic.twitter.com/rgVRZkKx6e

— ゆあ ｜ ライター🖊 (@yunc24291) February 13, 2025

On the other hand, for some reason, I also felt impatient, thinking, "I have to recover quickly." So, every time my husband saw me crying while holding the urn, I would laugh and dismiss it by saying, "I still find myself crying, you know."

At such times, my husband would say, "It's okay to cry as much as you need to. Cry as much as you want. You spent 11 years together, so it's natural to be sad."

In my case, I was tying myself down with the thought that "this is how I should be," so being allowed by someone else to continue crying made me feel relieved, thinking, "It's okay to cry."

After a good cry, I became listless.

However, even after I allowed myself to cry, a period of listlessness continued. Being at home, I was painfully aware that I now had two beloved cats, and I wanted to go out, but I didn't have the energy to do so.

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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 staying home is also painful. Because it reminds me that Jiji is gone.

I have nowhere to be. Nowhere my heart can rest.

I don't want to live in reality.

I wish I could just follow her, but Jiji wouldn't want that, and she'd probably get angry if I did. Days spent thinking and stopping.

Was I a good owner? If she had lived with someone else, she might have lived longer.

I just kill time playing games to escape reality. I don't want to do anything but play games.

My heart is filled with nothing but a sense of loss. My chest is empty.

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During this period, I couldn't go out and remained a recluse at home. My husband would invite me to "go out for a change of pace," but I refused, saying I wasn't in the mood to enjoy it.

At the time, I felt guilty for turning down the invitation, but looking back now, I think it was good that I followed my heart. If I had forced myself to go out, I probably would have tried too hard to act cheerful.

Days of self-destruction, with one meal a day being normal.

Eventually, I convinced myself with the seemingly legitimate reason of "being busy with work" and started living on one meal a day. The only reason I managed to eat dinner was because I thought, "My husband is eating, so I have to cook."

At that point, I just didn't care about myself. Nothing tasted good, so eating became just a perfunctory act of feeding myself.

I have a heart condition and am not very strong, so I should limit alcohol, but on weekends, I started drinking canned chuhai late into the night.

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Killing time playing games until dawn is the easiest. Even if I take a sleeping pill, I wake up early in the morning.

Drinking alcohol and feeling fuzzy to escape reality.

If I can forget the sense of loss and sadness, anything is fine.

I feel bad, as if I'm betraying Jiji by enjoying myself.

I feel bad about just calmly going on with life without Jiji.

Even though I know she's gentle and wouldn't want me to feel that way, the act of enjoying myself is frightening.

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Around this time, a sense of guilt would sprout whenever I laughed at trivial things. I would get angry at myself, thinking, "How can you be laughing when Jiji isn't here?"

In a daily life without Jiji, I shouldn't enjoy myself. I shouldn't smile.

I felt that if I smiled, Jiji might feel sad, thinking, "She's fine even without me," so I tried hard to remain "blank."

It was too painful to face death, so I turned away from the urn.

As I spent days of self-destruction filled with tears, it became painful just to look at the urn.

I wanted to make the altar lively. But looking at the urn made my heart ache. So, I started to turn away from the urn.

It was my heart's resistance, not wanting to accept or acknowledge the fact that Jiji had passed away.

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I threw away the flowers on the altar because they had withered. I didn't buy new ones.

Because no matter what I did, Jiji wouldn't come back.

I know the truth. That ignoring it won't change the reality that "Jiji is gone."

But I also felt like if I just ignored it, something might change.

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

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The sorrow of death pierces the heart too directly. For me, Jiji was the first child I ever welcomed myself, and the first child I watched pass away.

That's why, when I confronted "sadness" directly, my heart broke, and I struggled with how to deal with this emotion.

A change in my state of mind through the creation of memorial goods...

What helped shift my 100% suffering heart was creating Jiji's acrylic stand and acrylic block using a fan merchandise production app.

When I showed the completed memorial goods to the urn and "reported what I made," the words that naturally came out of my mouth were, "From now on, let's create memories together like this."

With these words that came from my own mouth, I realized what the cause of the suffering deep in my heart was.

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Ah, that's right. I was scared and sad that I wouldn't be able to make any more memories with Jiji.

Once she's gone, the memories I can create become zero, and that's the end.

I used to think that, but maybe I can continue to make memories in this way.

"Look what I made," I'd show her and tell her.

I'd say, "We'll always be together, you're right by my side."

It's self-satisfaction, but that's okay.

It's sad that I can't touch her or see her, but even after she's gone, I can continue to make memories. Forever and ever.

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Once I was able to think that way, my way of dealing with the urn also changed. Instead of turning away from it, I started keeping it constantly by my side.

Until now, I had kept the urn on the altar I made in the bedroom, which Jiji loved. But as the season got warmer, I started moving it with me to the air-conditioned room as soon as I woke up in the morning.

While I work, I have the urn on the chair where she used to monitor me when she was alive, watching over me.

Sleeping with the urn and going about my day with it might seem strange to an outsider, and it might look like 100% sadness.

But in reality, my heart has been calmer since I started keeping the urn constantly by my side. It somehow gives me peace of mind, feeling as if Jiji is still by my side, just like when she was alive.

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Today, I heard stories on X about people holding their urns while riding swings or going for walks.

I see. There are places we can go together precisely because she is now ashes.

When she was alive, we were together at home, but as ashes, I can take her to any outing and show her any scenery.

We can see many different worlds together and create memories in a new way.

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Honestly, the sadness and pain haven't faded yet, but compared to the most difficult period, my heart feels a little lighter.

This became possible because I listened to various people's pet loss experiences on X and felt empathy for my feelings.

Also, being able to give myself permission to say, "It's okay to grieve forever, and it's okay to cry forever!" was a big factor.

There are still days when I burst into tears as thoughts well up unexpectedly, but I no longer think, "I want to follow her." Rather, when we reunite at the Rainbow Bridge, I want to live properly so we can share many fun stories about what happened while we were apart.

Because Jiji will surely be by my side, in a transparent form.

Protecting my heart with such a wishful comfort, I suppose I will continue to live with Jiji.

The suffering felt after pet loss varies from person to person, but I hope my way of thinking can be of some help to anyone who wants to move forward.

Also, after pet loss, you might blame yourself, thinking, "I'm still crying" or "I can't get over this," but that's proof of how much you loved your beloved cat. I believe that when your heart is hurting, it's okay not to push yourself too hard, thinking, "I have to move forward for her."

Because the sadness and pain you feel are filled with "love for your beloved cat."

It can be painful to face those emotions without processing or organizing them, but I hope you can gradually look back on the years you spent together and find a way to deal with your sense of loss that feels right to you.

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