SHISUI, Chiba Prefecture--Masayoshi Kiuchi thought he had the rest of his life to spend with Taeko, his wife of nearly 50 years.

But Taeko collapsed abruptly in their living room in January last year and died of an acute aortic dissection. She was 68.

Kiuchi, a 72-year-old resident of this town, had not been prepared emotionally for her sudden death.

He didn’t want to part with his beloved wife and wanted to find a way to keep her with him.  

Kiuchi felt as if he were clutching at straws as he made an online search, which led him to find a craftsman in Chiba, the prefectural capital, who specializes in making death masks, or likenesses of the faces of dead people.

Kiuchi had the craftsman over to his home in Shisui in the prefecture two days after Taeko’s death.

The craftsman applied cream on Taeko's face and hand, who lay in an air-cooled chamber, to prevent her skin from irritation. He thereupon covered her face and hand with a gel-like silicone resin to make molds.

Memories flooded back to Kiuchi as he helped with the craftsman’s work.

It had been nearly 50 years since Kiuchi got to know Taeko in a university ham radio club. It was a daily habit for him to make tea with milk and have it with her in the morning.

He would visit Taeko’s favorite museums with her on holidays. The couple would also often go for a walk in their neighborhood together.

The craftsman handed Kiuchi, five or so days later, a plaster figure replicating Taeko’s face.

Kiuchi retained Taeko’s mementos, such as cooking recipes she had written and photos of her. But the plaster figure felt different to him.

“It meant so much to me that the figure allowed me to feel that she is here with me,” he said. “I can now see my wife every day. That is giving me (moral) support for living.”

The death mask was created by Toshio Gondo, a resident of Chiba’s Hanamigawa Ward.

The 70-year-old craftsman explained that many death masks were made in bygone years before photography and imagery gained broad currency, primarily in Western countries, to mourn the dead.

Death masks are also known to have been crafted in Japan to venerate deceased individuals, including literary giant Natsume Soseki (1867-1916), Gondo added.

Gondo went to study in Italy as a young, aspiring sculptor. He later worked, among other stints, for a funeral parlor.

When he lost his beloved mother, he wished he could continue seeing her face. That experience inspired him to begin taking requests, in spring 2016, for making a death mask, which he styles as the “last face” by using the English loan words.

In most cases, Gondo takes the molds for his death masks either at the client’s home or at a funeral home, because he has to do the work during a limited time period before the deceased is cremated.

More than a few clients have also asked for hand casts to be made, Gondo added.

The craftsman said he has taken orders for death masks of more than 50 individuals.

The models had been of various ages from 8 to the 90s. They had died of various causes, including a novel coronavirus infection, a sudden disease and an accident.

“Almost nobody in Japan (except me) probably specializes in making death masks, but I certainly believe there is demand for similar work,” Gondo said.

Sachie Miyabayashi, head of the Japan grief care association, explained that many people are coping with their sense of loss from the death of their loved ones by carrying tangible mementos with them.

These cherished keepsakes might include a pearl cultivated around a nucleus bead that contains part of the ashes or by keeping part of the ashes inside a fashion accessory.

“Death masks can also be seen in the same light,” Miyabayashi said. “They are probably helping people with their yearning for their departed ones.”

The Japan grief care association, which she heads, is developing, among other missions, personnel who provide care and other assistance for bereaved family members.

A 44-year-old resident of Tokyo, who works as a fixed-term teacher at a junior high school, lost her husband of 14 years to pancreatic cancer late last year. He was 60.

The woman said she felt that her husband would disappear further when his body was cremated. She learned about Gondo in time amid her sense of despair.

The woman said when she saw her husband's death mask, she realized she didn’t want to dull the pain she felt from his death but wanted to keep “feeling him” all the time.

“I can now touch him every day with my hands,” the woman said. “That has become an emotional support for my life.”