Sunday was last call for Gillian’s Wonderland Pier in Ocean City. Here’s what the final day felt like.

OCEAN CITY, N.J. — The final pilgrimages had been unfolding for weeks, played out in long lines by the iconic Ferris wheel turning in front of gorgeous October sunsets, spinning out in the Tilt-A-Whirl, in the final hug of a carousel horse, the incessant tugs of the fire engine bells, that manic tip and drop of the log flume, and of course, the waves to your kids as they come around one more time.

One last time.

Like childhood itself, Gillian’s Wonderland Pier headed toward an unthinkable end, and after 95 years, there was nothing anyone could do about it. Everyone had to grow up. The place that so many had entrusted their most precious Shore memories closed for good Sunday after one more beautiful afternoon.

» READ MORE: Gillian's Wonderland Pier has been a Shore staple for nearly 100 years. Take a look back.

At 6 p.m., all but one of the gates was shut on the Boardwalk, but long lines kept the Ferris wheel turning after hours. Soon, the carousel would be emptied, and no more errant shoes were to be flung from the swings. And barring an unlikely turnaround that Eustace Mita, the current owner, says is not in his plans, it was not just for the season.

As the sun literally set on Wonderland Pier, bagpipers Alan McGill, and his son, Ian, who worked at the Pier, played out the end of what felt like everyone’s fun. “It’s over,” a dad could be heard telling his 4-year-old. The winds gusted, unleashing a red table umbrella that caused another child to cry. At 6:16 p.m., an announcement over the loudspeaker declared the Pier closed. At the Wacky Worm Roller Coaster, the gate clanged shut for good.

“Save Wonderland for the kids!” a man in a Reggie White Eagles jersey called out as he left the park.

“It’s like my childhood,” lamented Melissa Keiser of Middletown, who grew up in Ocean City. She was waiting in a line to take a picture of her son, Ben, 11, with the pier’s bear mascot, Wonder, trotted out for the final day. “I am sad. It was something I was able to do as a kid, and now with my child. We came out for one last hurrah.”

Over at the Wet Boats, Sara Duling, 43, of Philadelphia, exchanged a tender moment with her husband, Sandor Ferenczy, 41, as they stood together and waved at 2-year-old Bence going by, perhaps the most iconic experience Wonderland has served up to generations over the years.

“I remember coming here as a kid,” Duling said. “It’s bittersweet.”

Her two older children could not believe it when she told them in the car coming down that Wonderland was closing for good.

“They were crestfallen,” she said.

In a stroller, Debbie Radvansky’s 4-year-old niece, Evie, gave a thumbs-down when asked how she felt about the closing. “This is the third generation coming here,” her aunt said.

There were multiple groups trying to raise money to somehow save it, including one, OCNJ History & Culture, that claimed to have secured more than $1 million in commitments from donors. People sported “Save Wonderland” buttons.

But the decision-making power lies mostly with Gillian’s current owner, Mita, who has expressed a desire for a hotel on the property. He has given himself and his company until January to decide how to proceed.

On Sunday, Mita said any hopes of restoring rides like the iconic Ferris wheel and the kiddie boats would cost “in the millions” and was not in his plans. Still, he said he hoped the future of the property would honor people’s memories.

“All tried their best to keep going, but tough to compete with iPhones and iPads, etc.,” he said by text message. He said he had his own first memories at Wonderland: on the Ferris wheel and the boats.

“Yes, today, the sun sets on Wonderland pier. But a new dawning that we believe honors these great memories is starting to take shape in our future plans!” he said. “Stand by.”

Friends of OCNJ History & Culture was not giving up. Current zoning prohibits a hotel on the property.

Helen Struckman, of the Save Wonderland group, handed out buttons and said she would continue fighting any rezoning of the property, which she said could open a larger section of the Boardwalk to 14th Street to hotels. “This is multigenerational,” she said. “It represents an innocence, the magic. Mr. Mita doesn’t want to be known as the man who killed the magic.”

On Sunday, the lines were long, but people seemed mostly patient (they had the Eagles game to watch on their phones at least). There were unused Gillian’s cards being passed along all over the place, tens of thousands of ride credits had been donated to families since August, and the weather was spectacular. But the lines made a final last trip feel just a little more fleeting.

“Everybody’s trying to be here for the last day,” said Khalif Smith, 64, of Pleasantville, who was escorting his 3-year-old grandniece, Journii, around the park: they got on the dune buggy, the slide, the race cars, and a final ride around the boats. “I’m just like, what are the kids going to do next summer?”

To many, the shuttering of Gillian’s felt less like the wrenching business decision Ocean City Mayor Jay Gillian, who is Gillian’s owner, sought to portray it as, and more like a personal betrayal.

Sue Distel, 68, of Ambler, said she was the original girl hired to run the merry-go-round at the old Gillian’s Fun Deck that preceded Wonderland Pier. “I am sick about this,” she said. “Everybody I see, they have tears in their eyes. This is why people come here.“

But others paid tribute to the Gillian family for what they gave to the city and its visitors. “We appreciate the family that ran this for so many years,” said Mary Holmburg, of Delaware, waiting in a long line for the Wacky Worm Roller Coaster with her daughter and 2-year-old granddaughter, Briar.

Gillian’s Wonderland Pier has perhaps never looked so good as in its final throes, lines stretching around the rides, everyone using up or passing along their unused credits, trying to hold on to something they never thought would go away.

For weeks, people gathered up their kids, and their too-old kids, for the final visit. There were the groups of Ventnor Pirate football players in uniform, the too-old-for-this former schoolmates meeting up at the Ferris wheel, each with their moms in tow, to remember what it felt like before it was gone, the family with toddlers and too many left over tickets to use up.

They came down from Philly, over from Linwood. There were the moms with their kids and grandkids just old enough for a first and final ride in the little boats. They got in under the wire, lucky them.

It was the future loss that hurt so much, projected onto those with children or grandchildren too young for a spin in the boats, or too young to remember, or even thinking of those not yet born, or just the loss of the reassurance that some cherished things can be reliably passed along to the next generation.

Gillian’s was one of those things. As you watched your kids spin around in the boats, ringing the bell, so would your kids watch their kids.

Gabrielle Celluci, 24, of Glen Mills, took a final “nostalgia tour,” with her two siblings, Lisa and Tom, riding all the rides they went on as kids. The blue monorail train where you pay a dollar for the animatronic figures to play country tunes, the log flume, the Moby Dick ride. “We’ve been coming here since we were babies, in strollers,” she said, as the group posed in front of the Gillian’s sign on the Boardwalk.

“It’s sad that they can’t save it,” said their friend, Erin Larkin. “Hopefully, they’ll make something of it.”

Rosa Rodgers, 55, of Linwood, came by herself for a final ride on the Ferris wheel, waiting in the long line. “I had to be a big girl and go on a ride by myself,” she joked. “Without this, Ocean City is going to be sad.”

The day before, she’d taken her 17-year-old for a final trip, and she noted that he had let her take pictures of him on the swings, and showed off his wide smile.

“I told him, ‘This is like the end of your childhood,’” she said.