Death masks have been around for a while and have different presentations depending on the period and the culture. My first encounter with them were the white plaster versions, from a time well before mine. At first encounter they were creepy, but as I looked more closely at them, I found their beauty. They were not “dressed” with anything at all, no makeup, no emotion. They were just the discarded shell of the discarded shell. How can that not be heartbreakingly beautiful?
I always wanted to go back and see if their grandchildren resembled the mask, but I never did. Some mysteries are best left in the head.