Ed doesn’t go out much any more, he and Carol go out to lunch or dinner once in awhile, but he feels safer and more comfortable on the bed in the addition he built onto the house last year. A couple of weeks ago, he was going out to lunch, we went to the Round House or his other favorite places, he loves BLT’s. Now, I bring the BLT’s to him.

He’s afraid of falling or banging into someone, he is not sure of his footing. Ed was somber today, thoughtful. I can get him to laugh, but he is serious, and understandably preoccupied.

Much of the time, there are people around – Carol, Maggie, Chad, Jesse, and Jeremy, and their children. I asked Ed if that bothered him, but he said no, it is a motivation for him to be strong and active.

The Gulleys are very much a farm family, and they have never pulled closer together than since Ed was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. No real farmer has any money, they don’t  hire people to build and repair things, they do it themselves. And it is an article of faith that they never buy anything new.

His sons and daughter are running the farm, they are often in the house arranging and re-arranging things so he can prepare for what comes.  They all have jobs and kids, they are remarkably dedicated to  him.

Today was a landmark day in Ed’s illness, and for his family. It was the day Hospice came to evaluate him and take him under their very compassionate wing. Many people have the wrong idea about hospice – I think Ed did for a while.

They don’t come to end life, they come to help people leave the world in comfort and stay at home. They help people to die as they wish to die, not as others wish them to die.

They prefer to come early in the process, it is better for everyone. Still, few people are happy to be in the care of hospice, just relieved. Hospice means the horizon is in sight. Nobody is really happy about that.

It was a great relief for me, a hospice volunteer, to see Ed and Carol bring hospice in. I have seen that hospice is the best way for people to control the end of their lives.

Ed has accepted this, quite openly. Today, I had another vivid display of what it is that I love about my friend Ed – his honest, intelligence, compassion for others, and own particular kind of courage.

There is really no one like him that I know.

The conversation I had with Ed was today gripping, and wrenching and powerful. It was hard for me, but oddly easy for him. He knows where he is, where he is going and he lives, as he said in the video, in the “now by now.”

“I knew it was time for hospice,” he said, “I saw it in the eyes of my family. I had to do it for them as well as for me.” Come and listen.

Ed Gulley: Time for hospice.

Ed was always unusual, he says he was addicted to milking cows, but his depth of character and strong moral sense stand out in our troubled and conflicted country. Today was the day when reality was fully accepted and embraced, and with great grace.

A sense of a river crossed.

There is a big chunk of John Wayne in Ed, and I mean that in the best possible sense. He is simply larger than life and sometimes seems to have stepped out of an old western movie. Still, i’ve seen the hospice “talk,” there is no bs or equivocating, they are blunt and honest and specific. I think Carol and the family were somewhat stunned.

Carol called the talk a “smack upside the head.” I think Ed knew it was coming. He seems at peace with what is happening to him.

I sometimes can’t quite imagine why he calls me his “number one best friend,” but it is an honor for sure, and I am grateful for it. We are not, in my mind, much alike.

After our talk, I had to leave. I went into town to see Maria, who was having lunch with friends. I just needed to see her, and she saw that I did right away. I said this one was hard for  me.

In the days after Ed was  diagnosed, I felt as if I didn’t know him, as if he was already gone. He was stunned, manic, spinning and sometimes out of reality. Spirits were talking to him all day.

I thought the Ed I knew was gone. But now I see he was just in shock. His world had been upended, without warning or notice or any kind of preparation. He was trying to find the ground again.

He did. Ed refused further treatment, a decision it seems was wiser than I might have imagined, according to many people,  and went on a trip to the Badlands with Carol.  He thought he might die out there, but came back to find he was just beginning to live in many ways – he was free.

There, and upon his return, he seemed to gather himself, begin a process of meditation, talks with Carol,  and self-awareness and family conversations. The video speaks for itself, I highly recommend watching it, there are many lessons there.

Afterwards, Ed showed me his very original and evocative drawings. Here’s one below. It’s called “wild dog.” Ed still is very connected to nature. A  crow comes and sits outside his window all day, the dogs and cats are always at his feet.

I’m going back tomorrow with more BLT’s. And if he wishes, another video. You can also follow him and Carol on the Bejosh Farm Journal.