Bye Bye, Ocean

We recently spent a week on Mount Desert Island, in Maine, in celebration of the 10th anniversary of our honeymoon, which was in Maine. One afternoon I was walking past a little beach near the pier of Bar Harbor, and looked down from the walkway on a mother standing by the water with her young child. She walked over to the child and said, "It's time to go now."  Then she picked her young one up and said, "Time to go. Bye bye, ocean!  Bye bye, ocean!" in that singsong voice many of us use with young children.

What is it about us, I wondered, that we invite children to say farewell to inanimate objects? What is it with the "bye bye" when it's not another human being, when it doesn't care if you're leaving or not?  I voiced my musings to Husband.

"It's a friendly signal to the child that it's time to leave," Husband said. "They know that 'bye bye' means we're going now."

I've been thinking about that leave-taking phrase ever since.

Rhonda and Benji, in a photo I took in 1984

When I was a college student, I got to know a couple of sweet kids, the children of friends from my parents' church. Rhonda and Benji were happy-hearted, loving, enjoyable children who spent hours around us. We eventually lost touch with them, but I heard a wisps of updates on their doings. Rhonda became an engineer, got married and had children, and Benji also married. I also heard that he'd been diagnosed with a degenerative disease. Both of them reconnected with me on Facebook in recent years. It was fun to see their photos and read updates on their lives, although there were worrisome updates on hospital stays for Ben.

Two days ago Ben's mom posted news that he was back in the hospital, and it was now evident that this would be his last stay. There were statements of hope for eternity from family members surrounding him, and sadness, such sadness. This morning came the news from Ben's mom: "My boy, my precious boy whom I loved very much passed away last night. Oh Ben -- I would gladly have died in your place. How I will miss you."

My heart aches for them in their leave-taking. "Time to go now. Bye bye, ocean."  Good night, Ben.

‎"Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Rev. 21:3-4