"Afterlife Of Small Talk"

$14,600.00


After my mom died, we found a journal tucked behind this painting.

She had worked at the same assisted living home for 31 years.

Inside was one of the last things she remembered each resident saying to her.

Not necessarily their final words. Just something from the last conversation she remembered having with them.

The entries were simple.


"Don't let my daughter throw out my red sweater. She thinks it's ugly because she has no taste."

"Would you scratch my back? No... that's my shoulder...right there."

"When my husband gets back, tell him not to park in handicap. He doesn't need it."

"Don't let my kids tell you I was easygoing. They're trying to protect my reputation."

"Is this your first job?"

"I don't care for Jerry, he cheats at Bingo, so if he says Bingo don't let him have a prize."

"See you tomorrow."

"You hear that squeak? That's a wheel bearing. Nobody believes me but give it another month and that nurse's cart, it'll come apart."

"Did I already have lunch?"

"When I was raising my kids, people said, 'These are the best years of your life.' They weren't."

"Tell the new gal she doesn't have to smile so much."

"My granddaughter is visiting today, she says I tell too many stories, well, that's because she only visits once a year"

"Who picked this movie? Everybody whispers now. Whatever happened to actors who knew how to talk?"

"Every night I still leave half the bed empty."

"They've been watering down the ketchup every year since I was a kid."

"Could you call my daughter and make sure she got home ok? She drives too fast. She's sixty-three and still drives too fast."

"Do they still make butterscotch?"

"If they bury me with this haircut, I'm going to be furious."

"You know what I miss? Somebody needing me. Doesn't even matter what for. Carrying groceries. Fixing a drawer. Looking after the grandkids. You don't realize how much that means until nobody asks anymore."


There was a blank page. I wrote one last entry.

"Could you open the window? I like listening to the birds."
-Mom




Original Oil Painting On Linen Canvas

Painting Size: 24" x 32" 

Every original painting comes with:

  • A Certificate of Authenticity, printed on heavyweight stock with a gold seal and individually numbered.

  • Housed in a bi-fold poly leather folder, stamped in gold foil with Seth Jennemann’s signature.

  • The certificate number matches the number hand written by Seth on the back of the painting, ensuring absolute authenticity.

  • The back of each painting is hand written by Seth with the title, date, medium, certificate number, his signature, and a unique story about the piece.

  • The certificate pictured is just an example. Yours will be uniquely titled and numbered to match your vastly superior painting.



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