these hands won't last forever

I truly love technology and I really like my job. However, I would love to have a part time job where I work with my hands outside.

I've asked my dad to help me start building furniture (I think it might quench this thirst). He is an awesome carpenter and it should be a good experience. Our first project: our caskets.

As a child I have two vivid memories about death and acknowledging it's place in life. When I was 5 I asked my mom what happens to us... and she explained we died. She used the 'we go to heaven' version (probably the right move with a 5 year old). I remember feeling overwhelmed and baffled... and surprised that this life just didn't continue on into infinity. And of course I was concerned this heaven place wouldn't have swingsets. In the end, my dad came home and reassured me... everything will be ok.

Then, the summer before my second grade year I remember riding on the pontoon and my feet dragging in the water and thinking.. I could fall off and I could die. Me. Dead. This thought became an obsession. I couldn't stop thinking about all the ways a person could die. I got really scared and this lasted my entire summer and 2nd grade year. I didn't eat because I could choke. I cried everyday at school and went to the nurse. I was in counseling.. (which didn't help.. a guy talking to me with a puppet just didn't do it for me). My mortality consumed me. It was a really bad year for me and worse for my poor parents.

One night I was sitting at the table because my mom told me I couldn't get up until I ate something.. and I just sat there for hours. She finally sat down and said, "what can I do?" She was tired and frustrated, I could see that. Then she pulled out a dove pendant and said, "anytime you get scared just rub this and you'll feel better."

And after months of counseling, that worked. I wish I still had that dove. It had so much meaning to me.

My current approach on death is respect and awareness. We die. It's a natural, good thing. Yet, we sterilize it. We pump our dead flesh full of chemicals and powder the surface. It all seems like we are hanging on. I want to be buried in my own casket that I made with my father..