In My Life (by the Beetles) ~Ashlyn Scism

     I don’t even know where to start— this book was heartbreaking. Outside of the general disgust I had for the idea of someone turning into a filthy insect (I strongly dislike bugs of any kind), there was so much to unpack in this tale. There are too many things I could address but I want to focus on the personal connection I had to the story. WARNING: this might sound cruel but it’s my honest experience— I promise I’m not a terrible person.

When Gregor turns into an insect, his family is horrified, but they still look after him. His sister takes on the responsibility of caring for his needs directly. She brought him food and moved the furniture to make sure he was as comfortable as he could be. In addition to the change in his form, he can’t communicate with anyone which is further dehumanizing. His family is struggling financially and although they loved him he proves to be nothing more than a burden on his family. By the end of the story, his family is almost relieved by his death, because it means they can finally move on. 

When I discussed this with my roommate (Hailey Walsh) she was frustrated with Gregor’s family and their response to his death. However, I not only understood their response— I related to it. My Grandmother on my mom’s side came to live with my family about three years ago. For one year it was great. I’ve always been closer to her than any of my other relatives and I enjoyed having interesting conversations with her. However two years ago around the time covid started ramping up my grandma was diagnosed with lung cancer. A few weeks after being diagnosed we found her collapsed on the floor seizing. She was in the hospital for the next week. Apparently, she had been having mini-seizures for months without us knowing that that was what it was. The cancer had spread more quickly than the doctors originally thought. It had reached her brain. When she returned home she wasn’t the same person. Her entire personality was gone and she was a shell of her former self. I hardly even recognized her. We didn’t know how long she had left so every day felt strained. It was like that for roughly seven months but it felt like a year. Seven months of essentially waiting for her to die. Seven months that my mom had to take care of someone who had regressed into a child in multiple aspects. My grandmother had become a burden on the entire family and no matter how much we loved her— it was exhausting and stressful. When she finally passed it was, somewhat, a relief. I loved her but I had been grieving her loss for seven months already. 

So when I say I understand how the family felt when Gregor died, that is what I meant. That sense of relief. It’s as if he was already gone the moment he metamorphosed, but it was only when he officially died that they felt permitted to grieve and move on. It is a kind of suspended grief— grieving the loss of someone before they’re actually gone.

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