Grief Archives » Lynda Waddington

26Jun 2017 by Lynda Waddington

Standing in defiance of grief

Gazette Column

My hand skimmed the smooth top of the computer desk as my eyes flicked across framed photos on top of the hutch. I sighed in full understanding of the back- and heartbreaking work before our family. Only two days earlier my feet were buried in sand along the Atlantic shoreline, more than 1,300 miles away. I stood quietly as the tide came in, allowing the chilly water to climb mid-thigh before conceding defeat and backing away. Watching the waves, battered by the wind, jagged bits of shell and rock biting my bare feet, I was convinced nothing else could make me feel so small and insignificant. I was wrong. [caption id="attachment_1229" align="alignleft" width="640"] Waves roll in at Hampton Beach in Hampton, NH on June 7, 2017.[/caption] The call came while…

Another year, hole remains

Gazette Column

He should have turned sweet 16 today. It’s kind of funny, or maybe just sad, that even today, 16 years after our son was stillborn, I still pause and wonder what he’d be doing if he had lived. Maybe he’d be running football two-a-days. Or maybe, like our younger son, he’d require crowbar extraction from his computer. So many possibilities — all of them shattered. Despite the emotional pain, I can’t stop pulling each one out, dusting it off and taking a test drive. It took me a long time to realize that death, in and of itself, isn’t what tugs at the heart year after year and plays on the emotions. It is the promises death steals and opportunities it obstructs that haunt you, nudging toward what-ifs and the…

Bittersweet balancing act of life

Gazette Column

In the summer of 1988, I was 20-years-old. had two years of college under my belt, and sneaked out of my parents’ house for the first time. The overstuffed car had 4-60 air conditioning — four windows down, traveling at 60 miles per hour. From the radio and years before a Rick-rolled meme, Astley pledged he was “never gonna give us up.” Laughter shot around like a pinball, lighting up faces in the darkness, and no one wanted to let it to fall through the flippers. Earlier that day, thinking how I was now a college woman and all, I informed my mother I’d be heading off to watch a movie. Unfortunately, I also arrogantly named the film: Good Morning, Vietnam. Only two subjects of discussion were prohibited in my…