When the “Doom and Gloom” People Were Actually Grieving: A Love Letter to Earth

 When the “Doom and Gloom” People Were Actually Grieving: A Love Letter to Earth

For years, many people who spoke about climate change were dismissed.

We were called negative.
We were told we focused too much on the problems.
We were accused of spreading fear.

Sometimes we stopped being invited into conversations because people did not want to hear about forests burning, oceans changing, extreme weather, and the difficult choices ahead.

But many of us were never trying to create fear.

We were grieving.

We were grieving because we loved this planet.

We were watching the signs. We were listening to scientists, Indigenous voices, environmental advocates, and the Earth itself. We saw changes happening and worried about what they meant for future generations.

This was never about saying, “I told you so.”

It was about saying:

“Why didn’t we listen sooner?”

Because now we are seeing the things many people warned about.

The fires in British Columbia and Alberta have become more intense. Communities are evacuating. Families are watching the skies, wondering if they will have a home tomorrow.

I have seen fire close up.

When I was in Nelson, the forests were burning so close that hot ash was falling from the sky. The fear was real. That experience stayed with me, and it was one of the reasons we moved back to the city.

My mom moved to Lake Country, and the smoky summers have affected her health.

So many friends and family members have come close to losing their homes — or have lost them completely.

I understand that fear.

When my cabana in Zipolite burned, I learned what it feels like when you have only minutes to decide what matters. You do not calmly pack your belongings. You grab your purse, your important papers, whatever you can carry.

You run.

You may not have shoes on.

You wonder if you will escape.

That fear stays with you.

Then we watched the tragedy of Lytton, where an entire community was devastated by fire. Families lost homes. Lives were changed forever. One man lost both of his parents.

Now we watch as fires threaten communities again. Clinton, Boston Bar, and surrounding areas have faced evacuations and danger. Places filled with memories are surrounded by flames.

I remember Boston Bar from when I was about 13 years old, when I took Catholic classes there. It is heartbreaking to see places connected to our memories affected by these disasters.

Even Vancouver has felt the effects. The smoky skies arrived, and for those of us sensitive to smoke, it is frightening.

I am grateful for rain.

A few years ago, I made rainmakers.

Some people might see them as art. Some might see them as symbols. For me, they were a prayer.

As I created them, I thought about water, forests, rivers, animals, and all the people who depend on this Earth. I felt connected to Mother Earth and asked for rain.

Then the rains came.

I understand that people will interpret these moments differently. Some may see coincidence. Some may see spirituality. Some may see a deeper connection with the natural world.

For me, it was a reminder:

We are not separate from the Earth.

We are part of her.

Creating those rainmakers reminded me to listen, to care, and to stay connected.

Maybe the world needs more rainmakers — not because one person can control the weather, but because we need more people willing to pause, reflect, and remember our responsibility to the planet that gives us life.

The people who were called “doom and gloom” were often people who were simply paying attention.

We were not trying to take away hope.

We were asking for action.

Hope is not pretending everything is okay.

Hope is planting trees when you may never sit in their shade.
Hope is protecting water.
Hope is creating art that tells a story.
Hope is helping your neighbour during an evacuation.
Hope is caring enough to grieve.

Because we grieve what we love.

And we keep fighting for what we love.

Reflective Questions

1. Have you ever felt dismissed for caring about something others did not want to discuss?
2. How has climate change affected your own memories, places, or communities?
3. What does “hope” mean to you when facing something as large as climate change?
4. Have you ever experienced a moment when nature made you feel connected to something bigger than yourself?
5. What places on Earth do you want future generations to experience?
6. How do we balance climate grief with the need to keep moving forward?
7. What small actions have you taken that reflect your values?
8. How can we better listen to people who have been warning us about environmental changes?
9. What stories about climate change should we be preserving?
10. How can art, storytelling, and creativity help us heal?

#ClimateChange #ClimateGrief #WildfireAwareness #BCWildfires #AlbertaWildfires #ProtectMotherEarth #EnvironmentalArt #ClimateAction #HopeForThePlanet #ListenToTheEarth