Watching The Last of Us Season 2 in Canada Felt Like Sitting With a Grief You Didn’t Expect to Feel

The Last of Us Season 2 isn’t just a show. It’s something quieter. Something closer.

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

This Season Didn’t Shout. It Just Sat With Me.

So, I didn’t plan on feeling anything major when I pressed play. Honestly, I was just killing time on a cold night—wind hitting the windows, tea in hand, that kind of vibe. But The Last of Us Season 2? It didn’t care about my plans.

It didn’t punch me in the gut all at once. It just stayed. Quiet. Heavy. Like a feeling you don’t quite have words for yet.

And watching it from here, in Canada, where the silence is long and the sky always feels two shades darker in February? Yeah. It felt personal.

Abby Doesn’t Ease In—She Just Is

I didn’t know what to do with Abby at first. She’s not charming. She’s not trying to be. She’s just… there. Carrying so much you can almost feel it through the screen. And Kaitlyn Dever plays her like she’s on the edge of something she hasn’t said out loud in years.

She reminded me of this woman I used to see at the community centre—always early, always quiet, always helping clean up without being asked. Never talked about her past, but you knew it was there. You could see it in how she held her shoulders.

That’s Abby. And whether you like her or not? You understand her. Eventually.

Ellie’s Falling Apart—and It’s Harder to Watch Than Anything Else

Ellie’s not who she was. And I think that’s the point. There’s no bounce in her step, no spark in her voice. She looks like someone who stopped believing in “better” and just kept going anyway.

Bella Ramsey doesn’t overact it. She just… lets it simmer. That kind of grief that makes you feel disconnected from everyone around you. And we’ve all felt that. Especially out here, where sometimes even saying “I’m not okay” feels too loud.

Out Here, We Get What It Means to Carry Quiet Things

In Canada, we don’t always talk about what we’re feeling. We just show up. Shovel driveways. Leave soup on doorsteps. Text, “You good?” instead of “I miss you.”

The Last of Us understands that. It doesn’t fill every second with words. It just gives the emotion space. And sometimes, that’s the loudest kind of storytelling.

Here’s what stuck with me:

• 9 episodes that don’t rush
• 3 new characters I still think about, days later
• 1 death I’m not over yet
• And so many moments that felt like standing alone in the snow, breath clouding up, heart way too full

It Even Looks Like Home Sometimes

You ever see a shot in a show and go, “That could’ve been filmed ten minutes from here”? That happened a lot. Foggy forests, frozen lakes, cracked roads stretching into the grey. Whether it’s supposed to be Alberta or not, it feels like Alberta. Or Manitoba. Or northern Ontario.

It’s the loneliness of it that gets you. The beauty in the emptiness. The familiar ache of wide open space.

It’s Not the End of the World That Hurts—It’s What Comes After

The infected? Sure. Creepy. But they’re not the thing you remember.

What sticks is the look someone gives when they want to say sorry but can’t. The silence between two people who used to love each other. The anger that feels safer than forgiveness. That’s what this show is about.

And for those of us up here? That stuff’s not foreign. We know how to carry heartbreak without naming it.

So, Should You Watch It?

If you’re in the mood for something tidy or easy? Probably not.

But if it’s late, and it’s snowing, and you’ve got that kind of ache in your chest you haven’t told anyone about—yeah. Watch it. Let it sit with you. Let it stir something up.

Because The Last of Us Season 2 doesn’t just tell a story. It listens. It holds space for all the things we’ve been trying not to feel.

And here in Canada, where we say “I’m fine” even when we’re not? That kind of story means something.