Most of the stories don’t do justice to Louis Mattioli. I get it. Most easy stories have to have a clear-cut villain. But there was nothing simple about his story. And I wasn’t always the white knight in it. I made my own mistakes, and most of the stories paper over them. One of these days, I’m going to tell the real story. They deserve that. They were Cowboys to the end, you see. I didn’t go in and heroically saved the day. I brought no justice in the final act to close out the story with a bang. It was his choice in the end. He and Natalie made it together. I did not finish it. They did. They did what Cowboys are supposed to do. They brought justice and peace to those who needed it.
It took decades for Louis Mattioli and Natalie’s relationship to truly go bad, and by then she was caught in the cycle and couldn’t get out. They did bad things together. Bad enough that I had to go do something about it. Most of the stories about him are true to a certain extent. Exaggerated, but there is a kernel of truth in almost all of them. Even most of the stories about our final confrontation are at least partially accurate. It was a heck of a fight. He was a Cowboy through and through, and he’d gotten better over time. I was too confident, and he took advantage of that. He got me real good in fact. That was my fault. He was good. But then, that’s the point. Cowboys are always good, even when we go bad.
Well, it appears I have developed a heart murmur since the last time I saw my doctor in March. Due to that and other persistent muscle pains that have been affecting me the last month or so, my doctor decided it was time to give me a whole battery of tests. I did my Amber Heard and sent it in the mail for testing already. I’ll be giving blood for some serious testing in the morning so am fasting right now. And I’m about to get a fancy new heart monitor vest as well. I’m also going to be getting an X-ray on my left shoulder and an echocardiogram on my heart. All of this in between going up to see mom. The funny thing is, I’m actually feeling better now than I was, which probably says a few things about how badly I was feeling before…
I left my mom at the hospice on Tuesday. I got home and didn’t sleep a wink, no matter how hard I tried. Then I went to work before returning to a home full of memories. This was the first house she ever bought. The one she purchased because she worked at the Mayo Clinic and any bank would give her a loan based on that. It was her first true home. In a lifetime of renting, she’d never managed to talk my dad into actually buying a place. But he’d left, she’d gotten a degree, she’d gotten a good job, and this was it. The end of her nomadic renting ways. This was home, and she filled it with a lifetime of memories. Family knickknacks and pictures and all the things she wanted around her. Now she will never add another memory to it. And I’m just trying to come to terms with that.
Today I left my mom at a hospice in the Twin Cities. They are good from everything I’ve read and everything I’ve heard from family and other people. And from my visit today, they truly do seem to care. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I just left my mom an hour and a half away. I can’t be there to represent her every day because I can’t be there every day. And just to add more fun, because they are undergoing renovations right now, they are under extra fire marshal supervision, and I can’t even put up an air mattress to sleep on in her room while up there. So I need other options to sleep while up there. I left her an hour and a half away, I drove back home, and I won’t be able to see her again until Friday. And I don’t know what I’m going to do next.
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