Sobbing All Night with My Beloved Cat's Urn — 3 Songs That Gently Healed My Pet Loss

At the end of the day, the depth of this pain is something only I can understand. Even when people offer kind words or try to comfort my heart, there are days during the grieving process when I feel exactly that way. At times like these, it might be better not to rely on "words from others," but to use something else to wrap your heart in comfort yourself.

Music, for example. Because you can interpret lyrics in your own way, immersing yourself in songs that sync with your state of mind allows you to cry and fills your heart with a sense of "being understood." After losing my pet, I listened to the three songs I’m introducing here over and over again to soothe my heart.

"Amedama no Uta" (Candy Song): Understanding that "life" exists because "death" exists

I’ve always loved BUMP OF CHICKEN, but once my beloved cat Gigi started his battle with illness, their song "Amedama no Uta" began to pierce my heart.

Everything that lives will one day die. Beyond every meeting, there is inevitably a parting. Even though I understood this natural order, whenever "that moment" approached, my heart felt anxious and I became afraid of that final day. "Amedama no Uta" sings straight to that anxiety.

"I want to stay with my cat forever," "I never want to be apart," "Please don't leave me behind"... While savoring the lyrics of this song during his illness, I made these wishes many times, in tears. On the day we found out my cat had cancer, I listened to this song while crying, and told him "let's do our best together" as I headed home.

On our monthly check-up days, I would listen to this song with a prayer-like feeling, telling myself "We're still together!" as I stepped on the car's accelerator. During his treatment, "Amedama no Uta" was a song that naturally blended into my daily life.

Furthermore, this song didn't just let me empathize with the "fear of parting" described in it; it also made me think about how to accept such a farewell.

The lyrics describe the wavering feelings of the "I" who consistently refuses to pray for help from a God who is invisible and presumably immortal. The "I," having imposed on himself the difficult choice of "not seeking salvation from God," faces the fear of parting and, while wavering, arrives at the conclusion that "even if you die, my precious 'you' lives on in our world."

It’s a philosophical song, but I found this way of thinking incredibly salvational. As someone who personally believes "there is no God, so I don't pray for anything," I could empathize with the "I's" complex feelings about "salvation." And if I could view it as "you are living in our world," I felt that I didn't have to force my days with my cat to become mere "memories."

Furthermore, I felt that the song contained a message that "life is life precisely because there is a physical form and because there is death." Encountering lyrics like that changed my own thoughts on death a little.

Parting is sad, but perhaps it is because death exists that my once-in-a-lifetime encounter with my cat becomes more precious, and the time we spend together becomes irreplaceable. It is because he is not a robot that can be revived again and again by charging that the days spent with a living creature are so dear. Being able to think that honestly allowed me to accept death just a little bit.

I am a lucky person to have met someone whose absence makes me feel this much pain. "Amedama no Uta" is a song I want those struggling with a pet's illness or how to cope with a parting to listen to.

"Nada Sou Sou": Comforting me on the days I cried while holding the urn

For a while after Gigi passed away, I cried every night while holding his urn. Looking back, this period was when my sense of loss was at its strongest.

During that painful time, I often listened to "Nada Sou Sou." While holding the urn, I would play the BEGIN version of "Nada Sou Sou" and look back at the photos of Gigi I had saved on my phone for hours.

As I looked back at the days we captured, I realized just how many smiles Gigi had given me, and the tears would flow again... I wondered if he was happy that I was his owner. I wondered if he had been able to laugh often.

"I want to see you, I miss you, I'm lonely..." Those feelings are sung so directly that it was easy for my heart to sync with the music. While listening, I felt as if my own weakness was being sympathized with.

And this song doesn't just sing of longing; it also sings of the quiet strength of "living until the day we can meet again," which really struck home.

When my thoughts turned weak and I’d wonder, "If my cat isn't here, what am I living for?", listening to this song helped me encourage myself: "When I can see him again, I'll have so many stories to tell him!"

For me, it was like a lucky charm for the days I couldn't move forward.

"Kaze" (Wind): Bringing back the "moment of parting" on the balcony

Gigi departed on May 16th. It was a time when a hint of winter was still mixed into the spring air. Perhaps that’s why spring songs often make me recall my days with Gigi.

Moreover, many spring songs are themed around meetings and partings. It's tough, because listening to them naturally makes me cry.

Among them, the spring song that has remained etched in my heart is "Kaze" by Kobukuro. Listening to this song, themed around a spring where a chill still lingers, vividly brings back the final period I spent with Gigi.

In my home, I strictly enforce keeping my pets indoors, and I had never taken my cat out onto the balcony. But about a week before Gigi passed away, I did something different. I picked him up and went out to the balcony with him for the first time.

I made that choice because I saw Gigi staring fixedly at the sunny balcony, not moving from the window. It was the first time I had seen him stare at the balcony so intently.

Normally, he would get distracted easily, playing with nearby things or clinging to my legs.

"Having spent over three months in a pet shop when he was young, I want him to feel the warmth of the sun directly just once." For some reason, that feeling welled up in me, so after taking every precaution for safety, I held Gigi—who didn't even have the strength to struggle anymore—and went to the balcony.

At that moment, a soft breeze blew, and Gigi twitched his nose. Sensing the outside air, he squinted his eyes and bathed in the wind.

It was just a "balcony sunbathing" session that lasted about two or three minutes. Yet, Gigi’s expression and that time he spent feeling the sun and wind in my arms remain so strongly in my head and heart that I can still recall it vividly.

That’s why whenever I go out to the balcony to bring in the laundry and a soft breeze blows, I feel like crying, and Kobukuro’s "Kaze" starts playing in my head. I hope he is smiling happily at the Rainbow Bridge while feeling such gentle breezes.

Even when you feel like shutting down people's words, words are easier to let into your heart in the form of a song, and through lyrics, you can encounter different ways of understanding parting and death than you had before. Through pet loss, I realized once again how incredible the power of music is.

Since the songs that strike a chord are different for everyone, if there are other songs you recommend or that have supported you, please let me know.

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