A little more than a week after Dawn and I visited the gallery, I got a call from Sally. She excitedly asked “how quickly can you get up here?”
I was caught by surprise and it took me a few seconds to get my wits about me long enough to say “I can walk up there in about fifteen minutes.” Almost commandingly, Sally said “drive.” I asked her if she had gotten robbed or if had there been a fire or my fondest wish, if had she found the artist.
“Just get up here,” she said. I grabbed my car keys and headed up the street. I was so nervous, excited, worried and a little hopeful that when I got to the gallery, I didn’t even remember how I got there.
I walked in and Sally grabbed my arm. “Come here,” she said. We walked to the area where Katy’s paintings were. A gentleman was standing there and she introduced us. “What’s going on?” I asked.
She said “this gentleman was looking at The Journey Of Life and when I was lowering the shades, he yelled ‘hold it…hold it…hold it’.”
She leaned over and whispered “I thought maybe he was having a stroke or something so I ran over to see about him.”
He said “look. You can see just the faintest difference in the colors here and I think I can see a word. I noticed it when the sun hit it in a certain way.”
Sally said “he asked me if I had a black light, which of course I did, so we lowered all the shades, turned off the lights and shined the black light on the paintings.”
She smiled and said “and there it was…on all of them. A word. She said “it was in a foreign language and I didn’t know what it meant, but he did.”
The gentleman scratched his head and said it was a strange word to be on paintings and it really didn’t make any sense to him.
When he told me what the word meant, I understood why it was there and I immediately knew that my suspicions had been right all along. There was no doubt that all of those pieces had been painted by Katy.
I believed that Miss Mabel somehow had a hand in this particular gentleman showing up on this particular day, at this particular time, looking at this particular painting. Again, I wrestled with the idea of telling Sally that I knew who the artist was but I think Katy’s intent was to have a certain je ne sais quoi attached to her paintings and I would not take that away from her.
I would like to say that once again, paintings mysteriously began to arrive at the gallery. I would like to say that I was eventually able to purchase one of her masterpieces. I would like to say that I found her and discovered that she had finally found peace and happiness. I would like to say all of those things but I can’t.
I have no idea what happened to Katy. She just might be on that island as I hoped, or she might be resting in the cemetery near Miss Mabel, having been reduced to nothing more than a forgotten, nameless number.
I did know one thing. I had been witness to extraordinary work, the likes of which I was sure I would never see again. Katy had touched me in a way that no other had or ever would. As long as I lived, she would not be forgotten.
Some of the notes she left had almost ripped my heart out but the paintings she left made it sing with joy.
I think we all want to leave a mark and whether or not she realized it, she had done just that. She left a mark on many lives…Miss Mabel’s, mine, Samwell’s, Dawn’s, Sally’s and every person who gazed in awe at her exquisite work.
I think about the word she hid in all of her paintings. The brutality of her father’s words had never stopped ringing in her ears and the wounds left by those words had never healed.
I kept repeating the word and I will never forget the gentleman at the gallery cavalierly saying. “The word is WORTLOS. It’s German.”
“Translated, it means…worthless.”
Das Ende.
Wow! I don’t think I was prepared for that. She left confirmation that she painted it.
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Yes she did. I’m not sure she wanted to be “known” as it were but she did indeed leave “her mark.”
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Another great one Laurel!! So sad some become the label they are given, I hope she discovered her real worth.
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I don’t think she ever did. Some labels are there for life. 😞
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I know!😞
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😦
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Good story, laurel. I finally got to read the last 3 chapters sitting in the airport. This one wasn’t so dark and twisty, just sad and poignant. But I really liked it. 😊
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Yeah…I knew I should have bumped Katy off. LOL
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Sorry, I can’t do this tonight. TTYL
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Fair enough.
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Sorry about being so abrupt, I am sort of struggling through this. I think you were an EMT, so I can understand your interest, but I don’t want to talk about here. 🙂
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I certainly understand. We grieve in our own way. Some write about it. Some prefer to keep it private. I would just say try to be strong.
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Thank you so much!
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You’re welcome.
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How is your back doing?
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It’s healed…I think. Thanks for asking. How’s your “situation?”
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Terminal. Any day now. I just don’t know when
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Terminal? Are you dying?
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My sister. my last living relative. Cancer
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I’m so sorry. What kind?
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You sure know how to write stories Laurel. I would like to think that this was her way of silent revenge, to sign her art with the very word that was her fathers horrible label on her. A label that clearly went against the truth – which she showed the world in the quality of her art, although seemingly not searching either fame nor the appraisal or validation of others.
So even though she was deeply wounded and not healed, I would think she deep down knew her true worth. Her strength and dignity shining through her actions.
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Thank you. It’s pretty remarkable…the scars our parents and others leave on us. 😞
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Indeed it is😔
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This is soooooo sad!!! 😩
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So….it’s Caitlyn Jenner isn’t it 😂😂😂. Katy Jenner 🙄. This brain of mine…all this nonsense.
Great, Great, story Laurel! I really loved it!
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Well…I think it would be Bruce Jenner. She was a girl who was hated because she wasn’t a boy. Never thought of that angle. LOL
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Haha!
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Wow. Good story!
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Thanks Bobby. 😘
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Laurel, I’m not Bobby. Bobby is a symptom. My name is Rob.
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So sorry Rob. 😞
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It’s OK. I understand the confusion because I live in it.
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😘
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Let me try this one more time. I keep sending a comment for the Respect Award and every time I hit send, it disappears. Are you getting any of them?
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Yep! 🙂
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Uh. Well crud. The story was EXCELLENT. The fact that Katy was never found and never (apparently) healed, and either stopped painting, because self-loathing will kill creativity in the end; and I get the sense she hated herself for being born at all. Due to her father’s misogyny and general ugliness of soul which he in turn gave to his child. Or she died and never healed. That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever read.
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Crud? LOL. Thanks for the kind words.
Yes…it was sad…she never healed…but she left a legacy. 😞
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Das ist gut! 🙂
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Danke. 😊
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