The Last of Us Season 2 Felt Like a Grey Sky Over BC—and Honestly, I Wasn’t Ready

The Last of Us Season 2 doesn’t just hit—it lingers. And out here in British Columbia, where the rain settles in and the silence feels like company, this story found its way into the softest parts of me.

Keywords: The Last of Us Season 2, watching in British Columbia, HBO 2025, Ellie and Abby story

You Ever Watch Something That Doesn’t Just Hit—It Finds You?

I wasn’t planning to feel this much. It was one of those grey, wet afternoons we know all too well out here—clouds hanging low over the inlet, kettle humming in the background. I figured I’d finally start Season 2. Just one episode, right?

But that first hour? It didn’t feel like TV. It felt like someone quietly opening a door inside me I didn’t even know was locked.

Abby Came in Heavy—But So Does the Fog Some Mornings

Abby isn’t the kind of character that shows up gently. She arrives with weight. Anger. Guilt. Layers. And yeah, I didn’t want to like her. But I couldn’t stop watching her.

Kaitlyn Dever gives her this energy that reminded me of a woman I used to know in Powell River—tough as driftwood, kind eyes if you looked long enough, but not someone you’d mess with twice. That’s Abby. All the walls up. But still bleeding underneath.

She’s not trying to be your favourite. She’s just trying to survive. And sometimes that’s more relatable than anything else.

Ellie’s Not a Kid Anymore—And God, It Hurts

Ellie’s carrying too much. You can see it before she even speaks. Bella Ramsey makes her feel like someone who’s had to grow up faster than she should have, and now she’s just… numb. She’s still fighting. But not for something. Just against everything.

There’s this one quiet scene—you’ll know it when you see it—where she doesn’t say a thing. Just stares. And it felt like all those moments when you’re standing in your kitchen, thinking about someone you miss, and you don’t even realize you’re crying until your tea’s gone cold.

British Columbia Knows What It Means to Carry Grief Quietly

We don’t yell our feelings here. We walk them out on rainy trails. We push them down into the soil when we garden. We carry them in long drives through the Fraser Valley or ferry rides where no one talks above a whisper.

And that’s what The Last of Us understands—real grief is quiet. It’s in the pauses. The glances. The things left unsaid.

Here’s what this season hands you:

• 9 episodes that move like fog over water—slow, haunting, patient
• 3 new characters that break your heart in completely different ways
• 1 choice that left me staring at the ceiling for way too long
• And more than a few scenes that felt like staring into your own reflection

It’s Not Set Here, But It Might As Well Be

I know the show doesn’t take place in BC, but you can’t tell me those mossy forests, winding rivers, and silent backroads don’t feel like home. Like that long stretch between Hope and Merritt when the sun starts dipping behind the trees and everything feels still.

There’s this weight in the atmosphere. A kind of sadness wrapped in beauty. That’s what it feels like to live here sometimes. That’s what this season feels like too.

The Real Story Isn’t the End of the World—It’s What You Do After

Yeah, the infected are scary. But the real fear comes from the people. The way they love too hard. Hurt each other. Try to fix things when it’s already too late. That’s the stuff that stays with you.

Out here, we know what it’s like to keep going when things don’t make sense. We know what it means to forgive someone who never apologized. Or to hold onto something just because letting go would mean admitting how much it meant.

So, Should You Watch It?

Only if you’re ready. Like, really ready. Watch it when the rain won’t stop. When your chest feels too full and you don’t know why. When you’ve got nowhere to be, and all you want is to feel something.

Because The Last of Us Season 2 isn’t about monsters. It’s about us. About grief that doesn’t go away. Love that doesn’t look like love. And hope that shows up late but still shows up.

And if you’re watching it from British Columbia, I promise—it’ll feel like something you’ve already lived through.

You just hadn’t put words to it yet.