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Holding Space

Land Acknowledgment: We acknowledge that this beautiful land that we call our home was forcibly vacated of its original and rightful caretakers, the Iswa (Catawba) and Gadua (Cherokee) people who have cared for it for millennia and, through resilience and persistence, despite generations of state-supported acts of removal and genocide, continue to do so. 



April Potluck

Please join us this Wednesday, April 19th, from 6-9pm at our home at 34 Blue Ridge Avenue, Asheville. Bring a dish, a guest, but please leave pets at home. We welcome neighbors, friends, people interested in or involved with end of life work, and colleagues to come together to share a meal and strengthen connections. Meet new people; expand and deepen your community.

Covid Precautions: All activities of the potluck will occur outdoors, weather permitting. We ask that you refrain from coming if you are feeling unwell or exhibiting any symptoms associated with COVID-19 and any of its latest variants. Note that in addition to the familiar symptoms of COVID-19, the rapidly-spreading Arcturus variant can also exhibit “itchy” conjunctivitis—or pinkeye—without pus, but with “sticky eyes”. Masks are encouraged and available to anyone who wishes to wear one. 

Parking: While there are a few parking spaces right next to the house, please reserve this for people needing to park close. Please do not park along the driveway or on the grass. Street parking may be available on Blue Ridge Avenue, Mitchell Avenue, or Haywood Road. There is a Baptist Church on the corner of the next street over, Mitchell Ave, and Haywood Road, that has a large parking lot and has offered permission. Haywood Village Apartments next door does not allow parking and will tow.

Accessibility: Reserve a parking space near the house by calling or texting Erik & Gabriel at (828)414-8086. The house itself has a ramp that can be used by people who use a wheelchair to get into the main floor of the house, where restrooms are located and where the potluck is moved in inclement weather.

*Photography: Please note that candid photos may be taken during the potlucks for purposes of the next potluck invitation or other use on the web or in print. If you wish not to have your photo taken, please reply here or find the photographer and express your wishes to opt out and we will happily accommodate your wishes.

By Holly Fink

When I first decided to move to Asheville, I think maybe I had a kind of naive optimism about what it meant to provide care and support to those at the end of life. I’d experienced loss in violent and abrupt ways, and was drawn to the idea of intentional community in this lesser talked about time of our lives. Even so, when Nina moved in, I was so unprepared for the intense impact she had on me. She was a force. She made it impossible to remain removed from her and her experience. She drew me in immediately with her stories, the love she shared with her family and with us, and her fierce hugs. She was a small woman, and sick, so the first time I hugged her I was completely taken aback by how tightly she held on. We were standing in the bathroom, because she liked to run her hands under hot water. And Nina was talking. Talking about some of her current symptoms, some of her past doctors visits, and about her gratitude for our house. She was expressing to me and another member of the care team how impressed she was with our ability to intersect life and death so seamlessly into our day to day (I’m glad it seemed seamless to her). We went about our days, going to work in the morning, putting on or attending art shows, meeting friends for drinks, and then coming home and sitting with Nina in the evenings. She loved that life was carrying on around her as she was dying. After she reflected this all to me in the bathroom, we hugged for the first time. It wasn’t a side hug, or a brief hug, or a hug where you hold your hips away from the other person and delicately wrap your arms around just their shoulders. It was the kind of hug where our bodies were pressed so tightly I could feel her heartbeat. She held on. And we cried together a little, and I thanked her for sharing her gratitude, and she thanked me for being there. After that, hugging Nina became one of my favorite parts of the day. Even when she was days away from death, her hugs remained fierce. 

By Millie Smith

I had to leave town on the last day, six hours before Nina died. Before we said goodbye, the family and I hopped on our instruments and  played a few songs for her – including an original song by her husband that Nina had requested for her memorial service. Though we had played together many times before, this would’ve been the first music she heard in days due to attempts to maintain peaceful silence on her end of the house. After we finished the last song, I went into her room to say goodbye and found Nina resting peacefully on her side, seemingly unresponsive — as she had been all day. I squeezed her hand, thanked her, and noticed there was a small pool of tears gathered on the bridge of her nose. I tried to think of some anatomical explanation as I wiped them away, remembering the death doulas’ assurance that she could still hear, that auditory sense was the last to go. Tears had come easily to Nina before she was bed-bound, less so in the last days. I hope it brought great comfort and release to hear us playing her a sendoff. Nina captivated all of us, and the connection I felt over our weeks together brought me immeasurable fulfillment. I still feel that when I think of her hugs and her sparkly eyes and her gratitude. Three weeks is ultimately such a short time to be together, yet the fleeting time we had is symbolic of the time any of us get in our lives. I cherish the gift of her life and love.

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