I stared at the ceiling, emotionless. After her long struggle against her own body, she had finally gone. I felt a certain emptiness, but I guess I had felt a very similar feeling for the past few months. We’ve known this was coming for the past seven months. 
  At that point, she was still her and we had no idea what was coming. It only took a few weeks though before I began to notice some differences in her behavior though. It wasn’t long before she basically lost her complete sense of self though. The feeling was weird. I knew her, but at the same time, it was like I didn’t. She was still extremely kind, but she forgot who I was and didn’t show me the same affection a mother usually shows her child. At times I felt heartbroken, but what can I do about it? It’s not anyone’s fault and there’s no reason for me to be angry. I simply had to make my peace with it. 
 Three months before her death, in a conversation with my therapist, I realized I had finally accepted the situation. I knew there was only one way this journey could end and it was coming up soon. For months, I tried so hard to come up with solutions to make living with her easier and think positively, but this wasn’t doing anything for either of us. It was just stressing me out and taking up time that would be better spent with her. I just had to deal with it. I felt like I had already lost her anyways. 
 I’ve made my peace with the situation, but there’s something bothering me. I know she was losing her mind and I wasn’t expecting meaningful last words, but something wasn’t right about what she said—“The ducks are coming.” She stared at me seriously after saying this for a few minutes before her breathing stopped. Frantically, I racked my brain for a response to this, trying to figure out what it could mean before it was too late, but I came up with nothing. 
   In my first conversation with my therapist after my mother’s death I brought up her last words, hoping perhaps she could help me figure out what it meant or if she could help me forget it. Bringing it up only made it worse though. As soon as I mentioned it, I felt my therapist’s interest peak. As I explained my thoughts on the phrase, she copied down notes, something she doesn’t usually do. Finally, she tells me, “Your mother is not the only one who’s said that phrase before.” After I have her a weird look, she told me, “I’ve talked to five other people who have said that was their loved one’s last words. None of them knew what it meant either. They were all suffering from the same disease your mother had. I’ve researched ducks and that, but found nothing.” Shocked, i immediately began my own research. 

Surrounding me are other people covered in dust, shaking with fear and clueless as to what will happen next. A group of us, maybe 12 people or so, are squished inside a small crater behind a large rock we can only hope that will protect us. I stare up at it and pray it won’t fall on top of us. In the distance, shouting can be heard. Every few moments, I notice it’s just a little bit closer to us. Pretty soon this crater won’t be enough, but we need a moment to rest. My mind races now as I attempt to remember the area near us so we can relocate in a few moments. A few months ago while going through this area, I never would have imagined I would be hiding in it later so a group of people I just met and I could avoid a less than peaceful death. Amongst my companions in this crater was the sweetest old lady on the planet. Every few minutes, she starts coughing uncontrollably. I know it’s horrible, but every time she coughs my first thought is the hope that no one was around to hear it, possibly prompting an attack from them. Worry for her health should be the first thought that comes to mind, but I guess that’s what the war will do to you after three months. Whenever I look over at her, I see her grandson with one hand on her shoulder and the other clutching her other hand. I don’t think he’s let go of her hand this entire time. Those two always force me to wonder about my own family, the very people who had a hand in the beginning of this war. I haven’t seen any of them since the third week of the war. Of course I worry and miss them often, but I’m also rather grateful I’m not around them. I’d be in an even more dangerous situation than I am now because of the list. Everyone on the planet and on our neighboring planets of course know about the list created by the inhabitants of Mars. The list was made to warn their targets, the small group of people from the Temple colony of Jupiter that began this war by trying to claim more land in the universe. They had already claimed nearly their entire planet and were moving on to Mars, a planet that claimed less land but was still much more prosperous. The leaders of Temple, a group of which my parents belonged, were drunk with power and had to get more land. Unlike many other groups, they put up a fight and it’s still going on today. When the list of targets was published, I had to run away. Luckily, I had visited the planet before and knew the surroundings. I found a group of people surrounding a fire who took me in I assume they were unaware of my last name. Thank goodness.