So, Why Did I Write "I’m Sorry I Cremated You?" (No, It’s Not Just for Shock Value)
How Grief, Awkward Moments, and a Touch of Humor Turned into My Memoir
The word "cremation" doesn’t usually show up in memoir titles, and an urn isn’t exactly a hot trend in cover design, but hey—life’s full of surprises, right?
My name is Jaclyn Michelle Smith, and yes, I wrote a book called I’m Sorry I Cremated You (shameless plug: publication date is 10/29/24, and you can totally pre-order it now on Amazon… I’ll wait). This is my first blog post, and I’ve been sweating over it because I wasn’t sure what to say. Then it hit me—just share why the hell you wrote the book, dummy! So here it is: the “why” behind what will probably be the biggest accomplishment of my life, unless I win a hotdog-eating contest one day.
2022 was, to put it lightly, a dumpster fire. Just a few days into the new year, my dad was found incoherent in his home in Surfside Beach, South Carolina. We hadn’t been on great terms because he flat-out refused to leave his house and move into an assisted living facility near me in Charleston. I watched his health and life crumble like a bad Jenga tower, and I was devastated that he wouldn’t listen to reason—or, you know, his daughter, the reasonable one. The weekly calls from the Surfside Beach Police Department, asking about his safety, didn’t exactly help my blood pressure.
So I stepped away. I told Dad to let me know when he was ready to accept help and move forward with life. Spoiler alert: he didn’t. Instead, the first week of January, a home health aide found him, and he was taken to Grand Strand Hospital. Cue the next three months of me living at that hospital, wishing I’d invested in a better travel pillow.
Do I regret stepping away when I did? Kind of. Did I need to do it for my own mental health? Absolutely. Because here’s the thing: watching your parents fall apart is like a horror movie with no popcorn and no escape button. And no amount of antidepressants can make it okay.
From January to March, I spent most days in a hospital room with Dad, as the doctors tried to figure out why he suddenly developed advanced vascular dementia, basically overnight. I then had to move him into a nursing home—against his will—which ranks pretty high on my list of Worst Days Ever. And then, I watched as he slowly became a shell of himself until he passed away in November.
Sad, right? Like, sad as hell. And since I’m a single woman with no husband to lean on and a tiny extended family, I was alone for most of it. BUT—and here’s the twist—while I was living through all that sadness, I kept finding these knee-slapping, ridiculous moments that made me laugh so hard I had to write them down. That’s right—laugh. At the absurdity, the weirdness, the “are you kidding me right now?” situations. I documented it all in a journal—the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Here’s one of those fun life surprises- I started improv comedy classes the week dad was hospitalized and what was supposed to just be a bucket list item to check off became an incredible form of therapy that would teach me so many life lessons, which I of course documented in that journal of mine.
I didn’t plan to do anything with that journal. It was my emotional dumpster—something just for me. But one day in 2022, I found myself sitting in my boss’s office (shout out to Adam), pitching a book idea based on everything I’d just been through. The wildest part? He said, “Let’s do it!” And suddenly, I was writing a book.
I wrote I’m Sorry I Cremated You because, in 2022, I felt like I was living on a deserted island of grief. Sure, I had friends and family, but I mostly felt alone. People don’t often talk about what it’s like to lose your parents, or the messy journey you take to make sense of life after it happens. Yet, almost all of us go through it, or will. So why aren’t we talking about it? I’m here to normalize that conversation. I hope that by sharing my story, it helps someone out there feel less alone. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll find themselves laughing when they thought they couldn’t.
Now you know why I wrote the book. It’s basically a love letter to my fellow caregivers and to everyone who’s lost a parent, or will one day (sorry to be a buzzkill). But why did I title it I’m Sorry I Cremated You? Easy—because I am sorry I did that. You see, Dad didn’t want to be cremated. He made that clear. But he also didn’t leave me many options, so I made the tough decision (with the help of my brother). Sometimes life throws you a curveball, and you just have to catch it. Or, in this case, cremate it.
Ok, fine—I also wanted a title that would make people do a double-take. And judging by the reactions so far, I think it worked.
So that’s the story behind the book, friends. I hope you love it. But more than anything, I hope it brings someone a little comfort—and maybe even a little joy—when they need it the most.
Love,
Jaclyn