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I Wrote to Remember
I Finally Have the Smoking Hot Body I Have Always Wanted is a wildly honest, heartbreakingly funny, and beautiful tribute to your late mother, sharing with readers your mother’s bold personality and her passion for life. Why was this an important book for you to write?
Because watching someone you love disappear in slow motion – while sitting across the table from you, eating toast – is surreal, maddening, and in many strange moments, hilarious. Writing this book was how I made sense of it.
It gave structure to the chaos of Alzheimer’s and honoured the woman my mom was before, during, and even after her death.
She was vibrant, feisty, and deeply funny ( sometimes unintentionally), and I wanted readers to get to know Mom and realize just what an incredible woman was taken from us and from the world.
I wanted readers to know that Alzheimer’s erased pieces of her slowly over time, but not entirely…some of those pieces were just rearranged.
I wrote to remember, to grieve, to laugh, to educate, and to honour every single person affected by Alzheimer’s – and hopefully, in the process, help someone else feel a little less alone in their own upside-down world.
I appreciated the candid nature with which you told your family’s story. What was the hardest thing for you to write about?
It wasn’t the big dramatic moments that were hard to write- it was the quiet ordinary ones that were the most difficult to write about …they knocked the wind out of me.
The moments when I saw her doubt herself. When she looked at us with her eyes searching, trying to remember or to find the right words… hoping we’d fill in the blanks.
Writing about her confusion, her fear, reading her hospital records, and the way her confidence evaporated-that gutted me.
And maybe the hardest part? Owning up to my guilt about not having spent as much time with her as I might have, and that I wasn’t her primary caregiver. My dad and my sister were. They were in the trenches daily. I have endless respect for all the full-time caregivers who show up day after day, holding it all together.
During the brief reprieve I gave here and there, I felt heartbreak, more guilt, and helplessness.
Admitting it and writing that on paper made it real, and once published, I couldn’t take it back.
What were some ideas that were important for you to share in this book?
Heartbreak and humour can—and often do —co-exist. That grief can be sneaky and slow and yet, darkly funny. That caregiving in all its forms…matters.
A reminder to always use the “people first” approach. There’s real dignity in that. Being remembered for the WHOLE person they were and not just the Alzheimer’s patient they became.
I also wanted to challenge the notion that writing about illness has to be sterile or solemn. Life is not tidy. Relationships are messy, and family dynamics aren’t perfect.
So, I wrote something messy, funny, painful, and true…because that’s what the journey was…
What do you hope is one thing readers take away from your mom’s story?
I hope readers walk away thinking about their people-the ones who shaped them, annoyed them, challenged them (maybe drove them a little crazy), and loved them anyway.
I want them to feel compelled to tell their stories…even if there’s guilt, cracks, or unresolved issues. Especially if there is. There is healing in the process.
AND I hope readers realize that humour doesn’t minimize the pain – it makes space for survival.
Above all, I hope they fall a little in love with my Mom …because she really was pretty cool.
Author Links: GoodReads | Facebook | Website | Instagram | Amazon
A moving, yet darkly funny, memoir.
Writer, Barb Drummond, grew up in a home filled with crazy antics, love, laughter, and an exceptionally unique and zany mother. Who else had a mom who specifically baked cream pies to throw at people she loved?
Her mom, however, drew the short straw by getting Alzheimer’s in her 60s. She lived with the monster for twenty years, and the disease stole her vibrant personality and voice. When Sybil died, an ordinary obituary just wouldn’t do. She was a glamorous Renaissance woman filled with creativity; a former ER nurse who saved lives; she was what movies are made of.
Barb wrote the quirky obituary with her mom’s voice. No one could’ve predicted her mother’s wild obituary would go viral within 24-hours-worldwide! The New York Post, The Irish Times, The London Times, The Huffington Post, CBC TV & Radio, Global, CTV, Hamilton Spectator, and many more media from Australia, UK, USA, and Singapore, spread the word to millions.
Hundreds of thousands of people internationally soon read about Sybil Marie Hicks and her smoking hot body and they wanted more!
Barb’s memoir takes you into her mother’s life and into the media whirlwind when her mom became an instant world-wide celebrity AFTER she died.
In this hilarious, quirky, and poignant memoir, I Finally Have the Smoking Hot Body I Have Always Wanted, Having Been Cremated, you’ll fall in love with Sybil and wish you’d known her in real life.
(Even if she’d smoosh a cream pie in your face!)
I Finally Have the Smoking Hot Body I Have Always Wanted (having been cremated)
Barb Drummond’s memoir is a wildly honest, heartbreakingly funny, and beautiful tribute to her late mother, Sybil Hicks. Sybil became a viral sensation thanks to an obituary that managed to make people laugh and cry in the same breath. The book traces the week following Sybil’s passing, from the family’s chaotic flights to funeral arrangements, peppered with hilarious letters from Sybil, childhood stories, family reunions, and a deeply moving eulogy in the works. It’s about memory, grief, and humor as survival, all centered around a daughter’s love for the mother she was slowly losing to Alzheimer’s long before she passed.
Reading this book felt like getting dropped into a boisterous family gathering where laughter sits shoulder-to-shoulder with grief. The writing is candid and snarky and sometimes downright chaotic, but that’s what makes it so relatable. I found myself laughing at the airport “wet sock” story and the naked hotel room mix-up, then getting blindsided by moments of raw grief, like the upside-down book or the sound of Sybil’s piano in a quiet care home. Barb’s voice is refreshingly real. She doesn’t try to pretty up death or sanitize her feelings. She writes like someone who’s had the rug pulled out but still knows where to find the jokes in the tumble.
The most touching part of the book for me was the way it paints Sybil. Not as a saint, not just a victim of Alzheimer’s, but as this whip-smart, sharp-tongued, wildly talented woman who threw pies in people’s faces and taught sewing classes in her basement. You can feel Barb’s love, guilt, and admiration all tangled together, which makes the letters and memories hit even harder. The book also shows how laughter, even the ugly snort-laugh kind, is a kind of armor. It doesn’t try to be wise or poetic. It just tells the truth. And that’s what makes it matter.
If you’ve ever lost someone slowly to something like Alzheimer’s, this book will break your heart and then wrap it in a quilt of memories, stitched together with sarcasm, warmth, and just enough swearing to keep it real. I’d recommend it to anyone who’s grieving, especially adult children trying to make sense of a complicated, funny, maddening, unforgettable parent.
Pages: 159 | ASIN : B0DJFRLSQ3
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