Someone I love died – Sorry, I still can’t say ‘what I want’ – and he did it all of a sudden, treacherously. But he was present wherever I loved him, and it was clear to me because even though we hadn’t spoken to each other in years—our natural cycle of discussion, compromise, negotiation, and disagreement was interrupted by the pandemic and will never return—even though many things separated us in the last days before his treacherous death, unexpectedly reappeared in our conversations. A few hours after he left us, all of us forever, I thought you saw him coming to our usual bar. The morning he received one, then several calls, telling him that he had suddenly had a heart attack, I woke up with severe chest pain spreading to my left arm. And I, who never took anything, even took an Ibuprofen. But days later, I didn’t fall for all that stuff until the noise of the cannonballs exploding inside me calmed down.
Someone I love has died, and I’m not even sure if the last words I said to him in life were “you’re an asshole”. And I’m not pulling them back, he deserved them. And this was not the first. But maybe they were the last, so put yourself in my shoes. And it was. Sometimes. And many more, mostly extraordinary, extraordinary, but sometimes overshadowed by this character. On the day she died, when Nuria dedicated a sky-pointing song to her at the concert—poor Nuria hasn’t been keeping up with singing while staring at the ceiling lately—I went to her and said: we both knew that if she were there, she’d tell me to go to some shitty song. And he accepted with a smile. we know.
Someone I loved died, and even though it had nothing to do with me, they gave me these few intense days to get to know the many stages that correspond to a duel: shock first Certainly; the denial, depression, discussion —Would I still be alive if I didn’t drink so much coffee and gin and tonic?—but most of all… anger. Too much anger. All that is necessary for you not to take care of yourself any more. Because when we have kids we have an obligation to move on, 100 percent for them and their daughters they will still need that wonderful dad a thousand times over. All the excuses I’ve heard from him over the years, everything he’s put off, and finally… his time is running out. For all the records, books, movies that we will no longer see, it’s the same as stealing them from the world. It will also go against the press – my poor ones, how much I understand you – for all the copy-paste pages that talk about the sudden death of the ‘great’ and the ‘greats’ son and so-and-so. awesome’, ‘brother’ – whoever is going to be very angry at your obituaries, I warn you – and they don’t even come close to drawing the vast professional career, great personality, tremendous talent we have. it—sorry, I still can’t say it ‘is’—.
And of course with me. Because in many of these news stories, I see that it is not enough to convey everything that I have written a while ago and now when I read the pages of the newspapers, I actually see and experience everything. I still see And personally, to my surprise, nothing is clear. There is not the slightest hope: if we hadn’t told what had happened, had we had the conversation again or the easy way, had seen each other again, we would have embraced the power of the seas while he whispered something in my ear. : «what an idiot”-. I wouldn’t change this or that one iota. I couldn’t physically go to the funeral. For the famous relatives mentioned in the press and their precious daughters, it seemed very intimate to me. In the end, for the little part that touched me, with him in places that were ours. I said goodbye – but after that my left arm was unraveled – and just in case, because the scolding should be private but I want thanks and ridicule very public, shout at the top of a pew in the square, or if you can’t make it, in the stern column of someone who loves you: Someone I loved died, sometimes unbearable but above all actor, musician, composer, writer, screenwriter, cartoonist and humorist. He studied Classical Piano, Composition and Jazz with a higher degree; Fine Arts and Interpretation. The day he saw Luigi Pirandello’s movie ‘Six characters looking for a writer’ he knew he wanted to live on stage. He was crazy about Bach, but he was also crazy about old Broadway musicals: Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Judy Garlan or Liza Minelli, and he told me one day that he had a crush on Katharine as a kid. Hepburn and “Not because I look like him, but because he looks like me!” And I don’t care if he lied to me or not…
Rest in peace Mauro, rest. What a privilege it is to have your paths crossed.