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.