To be dead and still living

I made my death mask . It’s not completely accurate as the face falls back when laying down changing the physiognomy. I am also not dead or sick.
The process was cold and heavy and at times I was anxious I couldn’t breath.
When my parents died I wanted to go with them. Perhaps this work signifies the woman they knew to the point of their deaths. That knowledge and experience of me can no longer be altered. I can never resolve anything that was unresolved. That’s me as I existed then.

Perhaps this is a ritual marking my living self from this point on. I wanted to honour the woman they knew that didnt feel acknowledged. Or maybe my sense of self was so enmeshed with them I’m trying to retrieve something even if it’s the outside carapace.
It’s still , contained and contemplative perhaps marking a significant pause in my time line as I am not yet dead .