A/N: Before I begin this chapter, I'm going to give you a warning that applies to all future poems regarding this matter. I would just like you to be aware that I am not a doctor nor have I had any personal experiences with the disease. While I have done some research on the topic that will be discussed, due to the fact that this is simply a draft, it has not been as extensive as it should be. I sincerely apologize for any false representations that you may find, but I did the best I could under the circumstances to maintain accuracy. My intention is not to offend anyone, and if you simply politely point out any misconceptions I will address and fix them ASAP.

Namenda, Razadyne, Exelon, and Aricept are all types of medication.

There will be references to poker in this chapter, so I'm going to give you a little info for those that don't play.

Suit--A type of card (King, Queen, Jack, etc.)

Hand--The cards you are holding.

Poker Face/Bluff--Pretending you have a good hand when really you don't.

Call--When everyone agrees to show their cards.

Chip--Used to gamble with. They represent real monetary value that can be cashed in.

Pot--Center of the table, where everyone places their bets.

With all of that, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

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dear mom,

i don't think you fully understood the ripple effect your actions would have

when you vanished into thin air like a card trick

that sometimes it's the little things i miss

like your cooking

not because i particularly liked it

in fact it was the opposite

but

because of the memories intertwined

hidden grimaces swapped between dad and i behind your back

face flushed, dusted with flour and determination

napkins bearing the white lies of false hope 

apron like a canvas for abstract art

and then

poof

you were gone

instead there was the gluttony characterized by the bloating of take-out dinners and the cavities of sweets

indulged in secret behind closed doors

gorged on with only the ravenous sounds of your own devouring to ring in your eardrums

and i was now the magician doomed to bear the weight of failure on my shoulders

in an endeavor to make the impossible possible, the unbelievable believable

the magical feat to end all feats

concoct a recipe that would fuse the shuffled suits of cards into one

an unbeatable hand that rendered death and disease powerless to rival

beat the cheats at their own game

for their unspeakable atrocities against humanity: forcing people to gamble their lives away

knowing well enough our race was comprised of fools

who could easily be enticed to play with a couple of mastered poker faces and bluffs

and then, with the roll of the dice-

futures bet away as if they were any other chip in the pot full of despair and disappointment

families broken before the draw was even called 

specifically, our own

and by leaving, you fated me to take the burden to fight this losing battle

for i am not a magician, gambler, or chef

only a girl without a mother 

with no one to bequeath her the knowledge of the family secret ingredient

i don't think you knew it anyway

our heritage traced back to a line of women without any cookbooks to guide them

so i've scribed my own

my ingredient list:

a flock of feathers-

tickling the crevices of my heart with the hope that dad will awaken from this nightmare and remember

a pinch of aricept to prolong the inevitable

a half empty cup of tears-

shed in fear today would be the day his capacity to love me will disintegrate into dust too

a sprinkle of exelon to seal the gaping hole of lost memories

a shooting of twinkling stars-

to crash down with the weight of all of my wishes, enough to fix him

a dash of razadyne for luck that Lady Fortune's wheel won't land on him

a shatter of glass-

splintered into piercing shards from the vases he's smashed in anger over a word he couldn't recall

a touch of namenda for courage delving into the unknown; for what the day lay in store for him

a slice of the sun's golden rays-

to combat the darkness infiltrating the storage card of his mind like a virus

with a sliver of light and happiness to bring joy

every morning, i serve it to him on a silver platter

a plate full of bottles and pills

trying to perfect

my recipe;

his antidote;

our cure

abracadabra!

yours truly,

evelyn

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A/N:

Hello!

So, I'm a little bit upset with Wattpad. I thought that I published this last night, but apparently not. I didn't notice because I was really tired and basically dropped dead after I wrote it. I was really happy I was able to finish this because Fridays are the busiest on Wattpad, but now I have to post it on Saturday morning (which is the worst time to post if you didn't know) :/ But, I'm a glass full kind of person, so maybe it's a good thing. I hadn't read over it yet when I thought I published it, so I'll see it as a sign that I really needed to do that first.

Anyway, I haven't really been happy with the quality of the previous chapters, and I realized why today. I'm clueless about what to write about, so I went through and made an outline for the next ten chapters (how prepared am I? I deserve a pat on the back for this). Hopefully, this allows me to more inspired to write in the future and take more pride in the poems I post.

First of all, was that confusing? There were multiple themes at once, I'm hoping it wasn't too much.

I'm assuming most of you know (if you don't then you could probably look up the names of the medication), what is the disease that her father has? How severe do you think it is? Have any of you had personal experiences with it?

Thank you so much for reading!

Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow, okay? Don't be a silent reader :)

Love,

Kiana