We had dinner with Carol Gulley again tonight (next week it’s at our farmhouse) and we enjoyed it. We laughed, talked, did some reflecting on Ed Gulley’s death a few weeks ago. It is still raw and fresh, and as it typical of Carol, she wondered why she was feeling it so acutely.

it was nice, which we expected, but it was also fun, which we didn’t expect.

Carol is farm tough, she doesn’t really believe in any kind of weakness or disorientation or self-pity. I asked her if she had ever called anyone for help, or asked anyone for help in the night, when she sometimes is lonely and hears things, or misses Ed the most.

She look at me directly, and was confused. No, she said, she just never thought of asking for help in her life, and never thinks of it now.

In my world, people call therapists for help and support all the time, but in the farm world, you just put on your boots and get to work. Life is too demanding to stop and ask for help.

Carol says she has good friends she could call, and she also knows she can call us, but she just never thinks to do that, it is not in her experience to get help or ask for help from anyone outside of her experience.

I urged her to give it a shot.

It isn’t that she can’t function without help, she can and is. Carol is plenty strong and plenty tough, she has the farmer’s stoicism, life throws a lot of things at the them, and they endure. Still, sometimes everyone could use a bit of help. She listened, we’ll see.

She said she is struggling a bit to find inspiration for her writing, this, I told her, is completely natural, it’s only been a few weeks, she needs to take her time and grieve in her own way.

The writing she has been doing on her blog, the Bejosh Farm Journal,  has been quite lovely lately,I think, honest and thoughtful. It is coming, and will come in its own time.

Don’t rush it, I said. You are a writer, and writers always find a way to write. There was a lot of laughter in that kitchen tonight, and a lot of feeling. Next time, I’ll do the cooking – scallops, I think.