I create pet memorial items and sell them on Etsy.
From time to time, I receive messages from customers that begin with:
“I’m reaching out because I want to cling to something.”
In this blog post, I’d like to share how people—myself included—have managed to stay emotionally grounded when overwhelmed by the pain of pet loss and the need to cling to something for comfort.
When You Feel the Need to Hold On to Something
Our pets are more than companions—they are emotional anchors that help us stay grounded.
So when we lose them, it can feel as though the ground beneath us has disappeared.
We may find ourselves wondering how to go on, especially if there’s no one close to talk to—no family or friends we feel we can turn to.
At times like these, it’s only natural to want to hold on to something or someone for support.
Some people find comfort in talking to loved ones.
Others turn to keepsakes or cherished mementos to stay connected to their pet.
This instinct to seek comfort is not a weakness—it’s a deeply human, healthy response.
You’re not alone.
And you’re certainly not the only one who feels this way.
When I said goodbye to my cat, Maro, I gently removed his collar and began carrying it with me everywhere.
That small act helped me feel like he was still close by.
Seeking Salvation in Relics
I personally recommend keeping a memento of your pet, just as I have.
For some, holding on to a pet’s belongings may feel too painful.
But carrying something your pet used to wear, or displaying a cherished item at home, can help you feel their presence close by.
Whenever I was having a particularly hard day, I made a habit of carrying my cat’s collar with me.
One day, my wife noticed and gently said, “It must be one of those lonely days.”
In that moment, I realized she, too, was quietly supporting me.
The sadness will continue forever, and that’s okay.
It’s been over four years since I said goodbye to my cat, Maro.
Even now, after all this time, I still feel waves of sadness.
Sometimes I receive messages from customers that remind me of Maro, and I find myself in tears again.
But I’ve come to believe that it’s okay to feel this way—even after so many years.
Some people might say things like, “You should stop crying already,” or “You need to move on.”
But I don’t think there’s any deadline for grief.
Even if I’m still crying years later, I believe that’s perfectly okay.
To ask for help with someone (something)
If you have a family member or partner who supports you during times like these, I think you’re truly fortunate.
Please cherish that person—they will continue to be a source of strength not just now, but for years to come.
But there are also people who are going through this alone.
Some have been met with cold responses when they tried to open up.
It’s people like this—those quietly searching for something to hold on to—who often find their way to this blog.
They read through many of my posts, place an order using a treasured photo of their beloved pet, and after receiving their handmade piece, they write to me and say:
“I placed this order because I had nowhere else to turn.”
“Actually, my pet has passed away.”
“I had no one to talk to, so thank you for listening.”
I’m just a knit artist.
But if my work can bring even a little comfort to someone in pain, then I’ll keep doing what I do—knitting, creating, and writing this blog.