A Montreal youth hosts Climate Death Cafés to help people grieve a changing planet
Victor Yin and Christina Joy, co-facilitators of the Climate Death Café session titled “Back to the earth,” held in Montréal on July 23, 2025. Photo submitted by Victor Yin
By Patricia Lane & Victor Yin
Victor Yin shows people they are not alone in their grief and mourning over the climate. With his co-facilitator Christina Joy, the 25-year-old from Montreal hosts “Climate Death Cafés” to create safe spaces for these conversations. Victor is a 2026 Starfish Canada Climate75 Fellow.
Tell us about your project.
It is evident to me that many people are already grieving serious losses in their lives resulting from our changing climate. But it is hard to find opportunities to share those feelings. In climate activist circles, the emphasis is often on action and hope. In ordinary day-to-day encounters, few people talk about climate change and no one wants to appear vulnerable in casual conversation, even though most are worried. At a moment when community might be a great comfort, you can feel really alone.
Christina and I met as climate activists and, like many in our generation, we carry deep anxiety about the future. As we got to know each other, we found comfort sharing our grief over the loss of loved ones. We also noticed how awkward it can be to talk about both kinds of grief with others and how lonely that can feel.
In search of solace, we attended a death café where people could speak openly about loss. It helped. We began to wonder if a similar, gently-facilitated space to share the sadness and grief that comes with a warming world might help others in our climate-aware circles.
We invite small groups of no more than 12 together. After a short meditation to ground ourselves, we simply ask what drew people to attend. The group gives people permission to share what might be awkward or seem silly or even counter-productive elsewhere. They keep each other company.
Since climate change is changing everything, there are a wide variety of sources of sadness. People might talk about their sense of loss with fewer familiar migrating birds or changes in their local park. If they have family in the Global South, they might carry anxiety about their wellbeing as the impacts there are much more apparent. They might be grieving an inability to plan a much-anticipated summer family reunion because of the chaos caused by wildfires and smoke. Some have talked about their upset about the shortening of winter because they can no longer skate on the Rideau Canal in Ottawa like they used to. There is often some reflection on the parallels between our spiritual need for some deep, quiet, personal “wintering” to restore our souls, and the tendency of our world to insist we are focused on summer hope and action all the time.
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