The Last of Us and Silent Hill 2 Taught Me There’s No Right Way to Grieve

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I first played Silent Hill 2 on the PS3 HD Collection Edition, where I fell in love with the subtlety in the darkness, the weighted atmosphere, and that dreaded fog. We all carry our demons in that dense mist; some are just harder to see than others. But being a teen impacted my opinions of The Last of Us and Silent Hill. I was 14 at the time of playing these games back in 2013 and I was amazed by the intricate storytelling both delivered, but couldn’t relate to much outside of feeling empathetic towards the characters. While I was a typical teen dealing with identity issues, I was one of the lucky ones who hadn’t properly experienced loss yet.

I completed The Last of Us Part II when it released in 2020 and it was the most depressing game I’d ever played, making it all the harder to complete with the pandemic being in full swing. I left my time in Seattle feeling in awe of what I’d just seen, but then a freight train hit me. My nan passed in 2021 and my views on the world, our minuscule time on Earth, and the inevitability of death finally hit me. Four years later, and nothing’s changed, as if I’m in a freeze-frame of that day.

Here’s where distractions come in. See, life is full of them, and they help stop us from overanalyzing the bigger picture, for it may pop our bubble of comfort and safety if we peer at it for too long. The recent shift towards a more isolated society, stripped of connection and community, has resulted in the search for something, anything, to temporarily fill that bottomless pit inside. Yet everything surrounding me is a distraction and it costs a fortune to have a dose of happiness. So I revisit my own Silent Hill on a monthly basis, wandering aimlessly in that once peaceful place that’s now fogged up.

So, with my newfound perspective that I’m not too thrilled about having, I loaded back into The Last of Us Part II and played Silent Hill 2 Remake, having a very different experience this time around. The content hit me in ways it couldn’t before. I could now place myself in James’s shoes because Fog World makes me feel right at home. I relate to Ellie as I, too, feel frustrated and angry at what the world has become. Where I was content with every furlough from my retail job quickly transformed into hatred, as I blamed the pandemic for my family’s sudden loss.

While there are monsters to fear in The Last of Us and Silent Hill, there’s nuance in their stories about losing people. How you handle grief is all about perspective — Ellie was angry at the world for taking away her time with her father figure, Joel, while James buried his guilt so deep inside himself that he forgot how his late wife, Mary, passed away. Both hunted down closure, facing their demons along the way, and creating new ones. Stories of acceptance that beautifully showcased the stages of grief; TLOU2 and SH2 helped me realize it’s okay to not be okay.

I’m perhaps now too overtly sensitive when it comes to death, having intense reactions from seeing the smallest flames being snuffed out. The suddenness is a haunting reminder like the creatures that roam the mist in James Sunderland’s Fog World. Feeling stuck and guilty for things that are out of my control, I watch time pass me by as I stop myself from properly living and doing the things I want to do. I saw what losing control did to Ellie and what being lost did to James; I relate to both, and that’s comforting, knowing that what I feel is felt by others (both fictional and real).

Most people don’t get the luxury to say goodbye. Both Ellie and James were able to move on, having faced their actions and their inability to change the past. While they were alone by the end of it, they’d finally accepted their loss. Even Abby’s story showed us that acting on revenge won’t bring her father back (the same conclusion Ellie arrived at), so she eventually finds a new reason to continue living, like how Joel did with Ellie. Love and loss go hand in hand, so you have to be willing to take all the joy that comes with love, knowing it also comes with the inevitability of pain.

Games like TLOU and SH2 taught me that loss happens and affects everyone, but that doesn’t mean I have to ever be okay with it. Time continues and there’s an end to everything, but these horror games showed me there are no rules to grieve a loved and no timeline on when you’re “supposed” to move on, and that I’m thankful for. Without games like these that I can use as a stepping stone to reflect and learn, while being impacted by their beauty, I’d never escape my own Fog World.