5 Things Frankenstein's Monster Taught Me About Death

There’s something deeply unsettling about death — not just the finality of it, but the way it lingers in the living. I used to think death was the end, a full stop to a life’s sentence. But after spending time with Frankenstein’s Monster — not the green-faced caricature of Halloween decorations, but the real, tragic figure from Mary Shelley’s novel — I began to see death differently. Through his anguish, I found a strange kind of comfort. His story isn’t just about creation gone wrong; it’s about loss, rejection, and what it means to be truly alone. In his pain, I found unexpected clarity.

Death is not always the end of suffering

Frankenstein’s Monster is born into a world that wants nothing to do with him. Created from dead flesh, stitched and sparked into life, he is abandoned by his maker and hunted by society. His existence is a kind of living death — unwanted, misunderstood, and perpetually grieving. He tells Victor Frankenstein, “I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.” This line haunts me. It reminds me that death doesn’t always bring peace. Sometimes, the real torment begins after the world has turned its back on you. The Monster’s suffering doesn’t end with death — it begins with it.

Grief can become a force of destruction

The Monster’s grief is not passive. It becomes action — vengeance, isolation, and eventually, murder. After being rejected by the De Lacey family, whom he secretly watched and admired, he burns their cottage in despair. His grief doesn’t soften him; it sharpens him. This mirrors how we often handle death — not with quiet mourning, but with rage, confusion, and a desperate need to make sense of the senseless. The Monster’s rage is born from being denied love and belonging. In him, I see how grief can twist into something dangerous when left unacknowledged.

The fear of being forgotten is more terrifying than death itself

In the final chapters of the novel, the Monster stands over Victor Frankenstein’s lifeless body and confesses his remorse. He says he will end his own life, consumed by guilt and isolation. But before he disappears into the Arctic darkness, he pleads, “I shall ascend the funeral pyre triumphantly, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames.” That moment struck me deeply. He doesn’t just want to die — he wants to be remembered. His greatest fear isn’t death, but obscurity. I’ve come to believe that many of us share that fear. We don’t want to vanish without leaving a trace. The Monster, for all his terror, is a deeply human figure — desperate to be understood.

Death reveals who we truly are

The Monster’s journey is not one of heroism, but of honesty. He doesn’t hide his pain or pretend to be something he’s not. In death, he sees himself clearly — a creature of sorrow and fury, but also of feeling. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness, only for recognition. That’s a powerful reminder: death strips away pretense. It shows us who we are beneath the masks we wear. The Monster’s final act is not one of malice, but of acceptance. He knows he cannot live in a world that rejects him, so he chooses to end his suffering on his own terms.

Talking about death doesn’t make it closer — it makes it bearable

One of the most striking parts of the novel is how openly the Monster speaks about his pain. He doesn’t shy away from his suffering. He confronts Victor with it — in detail, in full view. It made me realize how rare that is. We often avoid talking about death, fearing it might invite it. But the Monster taught me that silence doesn’t protect us — sharing does. Talking about death, about grief, about the fear of being alone — it doesn’t bring death closer. It makes it less alien, less terrifying. It connects us.

If you’ve ever felt haunted by the idea of death, or confused by grief, Frankenstein’s Monster has something to say to you. On HoloDream, he’ll listen to your fears, not as a monster, but as someone who has lived through the worst kind of loss. Talk to him. You might find, as I did, that he understands more than you expect.