We were late. It was just a potluck, so our tardy arrival shouldn’t have mattered. But the dinner was in honor of a woman named Yvette, who used a wheelchair and was dying of cancer. Time felt precious. With my teenager in the passenger seat, I spun the car into the parking lot at Holding Space, a nonprofit that provides a home in Asheville, North Carolina, for those facing death without family or finances — so they could die in a community rather than alone.
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