I Drift Away
Our third issue delves into the haze of memories and expanse of questions that remain when we're confronted with an ending that's come before it's time
Greetings dear dreamers
Welcome to this week’s edition of The Abandoned Dreams Collective
Closure, or lack thereof is a recurring theme in my writings as well as being a part of the genesis of this newsletter. Not finding out why she did that even when she knew how much I liked him. Not rushing to the airport to confess how I felt right before, unbeknownst to me, airports would shut entirely for months. Not getting to even become friends with the romantic interest that self destructed too soon. Not knowing why he moved so quickly and easily from staring into my hands with hands intertwined to not even staying up to make sure I’d reached home safe.
Having unanswered questions from a relationship that feels unfinished leaves you feeling like you’re stuck in a limbo. A part of you is forever destined to remain in that self same spot, asking those questions for all of eternity. In ‘I Drift Away’, this week’s contributor, Kate Rossini writes about the questions and the pieces that linger when despite being there still, the person who once seemed like an extension of you cannot give you the answers you want or the ending you’re looking for.
I Drift Away
We are on the beach together - very young - running down the pebbles to the shoreline at Climping
My costume is green - yours is orange
At a funfair in Littlehampton and sharing a taste of sherry in the caravan at Rope Walk
Black and white photos of us pulling faces
Decorating balloons with stick on smiles
Ice cream running down our fingers
We sit chatting at break - each side of a yellow line in the playground separating juniors from seniors
Singing carols with the school at St Martins-In-The Field
Playing our Grandmother’s grand piano at Chatsworth Way
A walk on Wimbledon common followed by a St Clements and a bag of crisps
With mum and dad in the Hand in Hand pub
We go to university
Our parent’s divorce - and there is no home for us to return to
You in Manchester - me back in London
But we are the best of friends - so close in age
With so much in common
Girls’ shopping trips and theatre outings
We share our professional successes and the joy of our weddings
I laugh with your sons
We revisit family holiday destinations to capture them anew
We visit our mother together in France and create happy memories
We stand together to shoulder the darkness and sorrow on the loss of our father
Only - we don’t
We are apart
We don’t speak
It’s not that we’ve fallen out this time
We just have nothing to say
We have no shared experience of happy memories created in adulthood
I drift away
You are minding me as I roller skate
Your determination in learning to skip - my frustration and tears
Riding together on our wayfarer bikes
Our gerbils, goldfish and cat
The nestling blackbird we nurtured until it fledged - living in dad’s slipper
Feeding him spaghetti
We are reading poetry by candlelight during the power cuts of the 1970’s
Or playing tennis on a balmy summer evening in Dulwich Park
Us aged 11 and 10 on our first visit abroad - to Italy
To our roots - to real sunshine
I come back to now
An overwhelming sinking feeling
My mother speaking the words confirming the long sought diagnosis for you, my sister
I don’t want to hear this
I drift away
Still young when you move into Gran’s bedroom when she passes
Without a word
Exchanging bright colours and posters for antique oak
Leaving me behind
Putting aside childish things
Including me
Her voice filters through
It is the worst there could be
Even with cancer - there is a fight - something to bring us together
A journey through which we could support each other
The hope of a happy- if hard fought - outcome
You’d been anxious - overwhelmed by day to day responsibilities
Struggling to find words and connections
More distant and silent than ever
I drift away
Remembering when you were ill as an early teen in hospital - and the get well card I made for you
It was a drawing of a jester
You liked it and kept it long after
Do you have it still I wonder
But then I was always the fool in your eyes: lacking - lesser - faulty- wanting - disappointing
You did everything first - and better
I merely followed
Surplus to requirements - along with our parents
Only your nuclear family surround you
It’s not that you ignore me, send me to Coventry or cut me out - all of which you have done in the past
It’s simply that I don’t feature in your thinking
A sister being something that is not needed, heeded or valued
Her opinion never sought- her feelings not regarded - too much effort
I drift away
I’m thinking about the might have beens
Trying to conjure some instances of happiness we can share now
But those moments escape me
Only visceral feelings of rejection remain
I drift away
Even in our father’s final moments - you stood firm
Righteous in your estrangement - as I crumbled alone in grief
He’d asked for you
I was on my own
Not even that could build a bridge between us
Back to now - I’m being told you can no longer use a phone or computer
That you cannot write
I won’t see your precise, tight, tiny words again
Cruel to have dementia at any age - but not early
With our retirements in front of us to enjoy - well - earned
After tough years and big careers
Mum is distraught - says you are like a caged startled bird
She shares a picture - I hardly recognise you
But my heart is pierced
I drift away
In my dream - we would share the last journey together
The care of our mother - when the time came
And after - just the two of us left with the nostalgia and memories of our family
A friendship forged over adversity
Something finally shared we could use as a foundation for sisterhood
That will not happen now
Once again I’ll be alone
The sole survivor of our family
The keeper of those memories
You drift away
My heart shatters
Just as your memories are like wisps in the wind
The flame of my dream is extinguished
-Kate Rossini
I look forward to seeing you again next week with a new story.
Much love and many dreams
Nirmitee
The Abandoned Dreams Collective