31. The GBH @ Hudson’s

Today is 9 days from the first anniversary of Dad’s passing. I’ve committed to writing 40 stories about him as that day approaches. Forty Steady Stories.

When we first started going to Hilton Head Island for summer vacations, I was 14 years old. Back then, there was no Cross Island Expressway and hardly any traffic (hard to believe!). The first few years we went down there, we always had a meal at Hudson’s Seafood Restaurant, and part of the meal experience was watching the wildlife there — specifically the Great Blue Herons — the “GBH.” That’s the first place I remember seeing those magnificent birds, and I loved watching them stalk fish at the water’s edge right there at Hudson’s.

Even though we quit going to Hudson’s over the years due to traffic and time, those birds are all over HHI. They became the #1 most wanted on Dad’s picture list. It became a yearly quest to go get a great photograph of a GBH in the Sea Pines Forest Preserve. Dad would load up all his gear, go scout out some locations, and then set up shop with his tripod and some serious lenses.

These are the kind of lenses that are so long and heavy that you must put the tripod on the middle of the lens (rather than under the camera) to balance the weight. The night before the shoot, he’d put all his camera gear in his car trunk, so that the change in humidity from the house wouldn’t get condensation on the lenses the next morning.

Then we’d head out to the Forest Preserve just before sunrise to catch the early morning light. It was always fun to get surprised by what we’d see — alligators, anhingas, cormorants, and other herons — but we were always in search of that perfect picture of the GBH. We did this every summer for decades at Hilton Head.

On July 15, 2016, we were all down at HHI, and Dad wanted to go take some pictures and then go to lunch. I said, “Why don’t we go to Hudson’s? We haven’t been there in forever!” So, the two of us took off with some gear and arrived at Hudson’s.

As Dad was getting out his camera gear from the car, I could tell something was different. He seemed a little confused about his tripod and the camera. I knew something was going on, and a lot of us in our family had noticed things like this over the last year or two. After five brain surgeries and multiple other surgeries, it seemed that things were changing significantly.

It was a tough moment for me.

Dad was never confused about camera stuff. Never. But I could tell something was wrong as we photographed the American flag outside Hudson’s. I could tell just by the way he was framing the shot in his lens. We took some pictures and then went inside for lunch. When we sat down, I took the picture of Dad holding the Hudson’s placard on the table. I wanted the memory of the moment because I could feel the weight of it.

We ordered, and I told Dad that I was going outside to take a quick picture of a Great Blue Heron on a pylon that I could see out the window. That was true, but I also needed a moment to compose myself. I began to pray as I walked outside, and I walked toward the heron. Bottom line: I got closer than I’ve ever gotten — before or since — to a GBH and I took this picture:

Great Blue Heron @ Hudson’s Restaurant

Can you see the wear, tear, and scars on his beak? This was such a gift from God to me, because I saw so much wear, tear, and scars going on for Dad just 50 feet away. I had a moment, and I am so grateful to have this picture as a reminder — especially now looking back just five years later.

Now, here’s why I’m writing this tonight…

For the last 31 nights, I’ve sat down at my computer with a long list of phrases and said, “Alright, Lord. What should I write about tonight?” Then, every single night, I’ve been given the gift of turning a phrase of a few words into about six hundred words. But, I never have known exactly what I would write about until that moment each night.

That changes for the next nine stories. I know exactly what I need to write about and have numbered the phrases from here on out. The stories will get tougher to write and more poignant, but I know what I need and want to say about Dad and our journey with him all the way to the end last December 28.

Thanks for reading and for allowing me the privilege of your attention and time. I’m grateful. Until tomorrow…