“The sea is as near as we come to another world.”
(From “North Sea off Carnoustie” by Anne Stevenson)
Joyce loved the beach. She grew up 30 miles from Emerald Isle. She loved to Shag. She would talk about jigging for flounder. Sadly, she married a preacher who would choose the mountains over the beach, never learned to Shag and had never heard of jigging for flounder.
When we lived in Pollocksville, we were very close to the beach. Fresh seafood was just a short drive away. We could go to the beach for a morning or an afternoon. When we moved to Roxboro, Joyce missed the beach.
Our physician and good friend, Dr. Thomas Long, had a condo at North Myrtle Beach. He was always willing to rent the condo to us at a discounted price. Every summer we would take the family to the beach condo on the second week of August. We would have the car packed and leave as soon as church was over on Sunday. We would return home the following Sunday. Joyce loved our annual trip to the beach.
When we moved to Lexington, we didn’t go to the beach very often. The children were growing up and Joyce and I started to travel internationally. I served on the Board of Directors for our Baptist camp in Belize and we would travel to Belize at least once a year for the annual board meeting. We would always spend a couple of days on an island where we enjoyed the Palm Trees and white sand of the beautiful Caribbean Sea. Even so, Joyce would say, “I miss the beach.” She was talking about her beach, Carolina beaches.
We traveled to the beach several times in recent years. We were invited to preach at the Emma Anderson Memorial Chapel at Topsail Beach for a couple of years. The church invites a different minister each week and provides a beautiful, small beach cottage. The first year we went, Joyce really enjoyed it. We walked on the beach. We enjoyed the seafood. We took in gorgeous sunrises and sunsets.
Dementia was starting to close in by the next year. Joyce didn’t want to leave the cottage. If I left to go walking, she would become very anxious. She did not want to walk on the beach. That was when I realized her dementia was advancing quickly.
In November of 2024, Jerry Beamer’s father died and Joyce and I drove to Mt. Airy for his funeral. Jerry’s son, Colin, introduced us to his fiancé and told us that they were getting married the next summer on the Outer Banks. Joyce quickly stated that we planned to attend. This was Colin, one of our very special young people whom we had known his entire life, and secondly, it was going to be at the beach.
We made the drive to Duck, North Carolina, in June for the wedding. Joyce loved seeing so many of the young people that we had worked with at the church. She danced with Jerry. She delighted in all of the beautiful highlights of the wedding.
The wedding was at the Sanderling Resort in Duck. Following the ceremony, we witnessed one of those breathtaking sunsets over the sound. It would be the last sunset Joyce would ever see at the beach.
We left the next morning, never to return to the beach again.
A few weeks ago, Ray Nance asked me if I wanted to go with him and his family to the beach. They were going to the Outer Banks, to Frisco. We left Monday morning. It is a long drive, but six hours later we arrived at the rental house on the beach.
Ray Nance, Sang, and Ella Rae went to the beach every morning. They would spend several hours in the water and sand. Then they returned to walk on the beach each night.
I did some walking on the streets, but mainly stayed at the house, catching up on some reading. It was great to be with them. We played Scrabble, Monopoly, and Life. Ray Nance and Sang prepared the meals. It was a very good week.
I wanted to go to the beach at least once, so on Tuesday night I told them that I would go to the beach with them. It was dark. We had flashlights. We climbed over the sand dune and I saw the powerful ocean pounding the beach in front of me.
Once on the beach, I decided to wade out into the water. As I did with the wind blowing and the waves pounding, I felt Joyce’s presence. She had always told me there was something very special about the beach. There was a power, a mystique that one cannot easily explain, but suddenly I got it. I knew what Joyce was trying to tell me.
I could feel her standing beside me, holding my hand, looking out into the majestic sea. Then the tears started to flow. Suddenly, I was alone and the pain of loneliness overcame me.
I don’t know how long I was standing there, but I felt another presence. My granddaughter, Ella Rae, walked over and stood beside me, placing her arm around me. No words were spoken, no words were needed.
Ray Nance asked me if I wanted to talk about it. “No,” I said. But then I added, “You know she loved the beach.”
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
(“Crossing the Bar” by Alfred Lord Tennyson)
No comments:
Post a Comment