On the morning of May 18th, 2014, I awoke to find my mom on the floor. She was unconscious. She had a pulse and she was breathing. She was face down next to her bed. From what I could figure she had tried to get out of bed on her own and passed out. I rolled her onto her back and tried to get some kind of response. None. At all.

I knew this was coming. I didn't know how or when, but I somehow I knew. Signs? Plenty of them. But still, there are things that just don't put themselves on the calendar. And as much as I had prepared myself for this moment, nothing could have really prepared me to find her in this condition.

My mom was unconscious. Her oxygen worn 24/7 for the last few months on full force. In preparation for this moment, she and I had filled out what is called a MOST form. MOST stands for Medical Orders for Standards of Treatment. Basically my mom's wishes clearly spelled out in case she became unresponsive. Do you have one of these? Does your nearest medical facility have one on file for you? Probably not. That's why I'm writing this.

Mom's orders were clear, no lifesaving measures to be taken. I wasn't to call 911. She wasn't going to the hospital. Keep her oxygen on and keep her comfortable. It's not like you see on TV. It was a clear and somber moment. And there was nothing to do but call my older brother to come be with us and hold her hand. Would she be like this for long? No way to tell. But my guess was that life was leaving her body with every labored breath. As her lungs began to rattle, it was more than clear.

My mom and I had talked about this moment. A lot. She was pretty gnarly with me about obeying her wishes. And I was expected to hold that standard. But damn, this is my mom. Not some movie here. Real life. And I held the standard as I held her hand. No treatment. We were able to get her back onto her bed and seemingly more comfortable. And after about two hours, just after noon, her breathing stopped and her heart with it. Not before her lips and fingers turned an awful color of blue. Nothing. And I mean nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced on the morning of May 18th. Despite all the knowing that this event was going to happen, the moment was purely without comprehension. The solace in all of this is no more suffering for Donna Wilber. A big ordeal now over. And an even bigger ordeal begins for me as I clean up the admin stuff from 83 years of wonderful life and 40 years in the same home.

I wanna tell you that I appreciate you reading all the words I've written about my mom and this whole thing. Sure, easier to write about grass and stuff and probably better for your entertainment. But not better for ALL of us. Writing is my radical therapy so it's been necessary for me. And I've gotten so much good feedback and some many amazing stories from so many people.

Here's my message. Get prepared. Do it. Here are some things that just have to be done. It doesn't matter. Because I guarantee you aren't ready. 

Doesn't matter how young you are, get a Will together. What I learned recently about the laws around what happens if you don't have one is absolutely frightening. Especially if there are loved ones of any kind in your life (including your dog or cat or pet monkey) I'm not kidding.

Doesn't matter how healthy you are, get life insured. The cost of a simple cremation and no memorial services for my mom, $5,000. Bare bones. My mom and I handled her after death wishes and the mortuary had a check. But we knew this was coming. And she had put by the money. You probably won't.

Doesn't matter how cool you think your friends and family are or how much they get along, when you go, you want them not to have to deal with hard stuff. Make sure there are instructions. Because dollars to doughnuts, there will be an argument about a painting or an Xbox or some dumb shit and you don't want that to happen.

Doesn't matter if you don't want to be a hassle to a friend or a loved one, tell someone where your wishes are kept. They need to know. And if you want to tell them where your porn is stashed or whatever you don't want your "other" loved ones to find, that's probably a good thing.

Doesn't matter if you don't want to think about it, make sure you have documents that can speak for you if you can't. Be it your state's MOST form, a Living Will or whatever instrument is right, do it. Because again, I can't imagine what would have went down had I not had clear instructions for my mom's care. She might still have a machine breathing for her with some just out of med school Doc thinking she could save my mom's life with yet another drug and nothing I could do.

Now...that's for you and your personal life. Look at the above stuff and think about your work. If something happens to you (forbid that it does) does anyone at work really know what to do or how to find the important stuff (or the stuff you don't want found)?

Look, I'm not trying to be morbid here. But I had half a year to help prepare for the passing of my mom and 13 weeks of very close caregiving contact and I'm still about half in the dark about tons of stuff that she and I talked about. I guarantee that most of you reading this aren't ready. At all. 

So this is the wisdom. Please use it. I appreciate you reading about my world, but if I didn't pass this along, I'd be doing you a huge disservice as a Turfhead. 

In loving memory of the greatest mom a kid could ever have. May you be having a Margarita somewhere cool and amazing and may you be helping someone as it was your great love to do.

Donna Wilber

Born: April, 1931

Died: May, 2014