OF ALL the issues covered in the two-part interview Simon Rothstein conducted with me leading into the debut of our new Heyman Hustle programme, the only one I told him up-front I was uncomfortable talking about was Chris Benoit.
Like many others, I spent a good part of last summer wondering what happened, speculating on the events that lead to the horrible tragedy on that awful weekend in June.
But also like everyone else, I have no answers. My theories are exactly that. Just theories. The only people who can accurately tell us what happened, what caused the chain of events that lead to three people's lives being extinguished, are all gone.
So, how does anyone tackle the subject of what happened? How does someone who knew Chris, Nancy, and Daniel convey his or her thoughts on this horrific murder suicide that touched all of our lives? Where do you start if you're trying to understand it all?
See, that's just the point. I don't understand it. I can't grasp it and I've given up trying.
It's obvious from what we know about Chris' diary and his concussions and his brain damage and his drug use that he descended into madness.
And before that, one would have to assume that unbeknownst to us all, he was a man prone to this level of - what word applies here - Evil? Horror? Darkness?
I live for my children. Wake up for them. BREATHE for them. Their very existence makes me love life more than ever before. They fulfil me.
And I had so many talks with Chris about that. The subject of our children was a breakthrough for us, because Chris was just never the type of guy I could socialise with, or talk on the phone with for a long time. We were on two different waves.
But we could talk about "personality" and "character" and "submissions" and "the art" for hours on end, and enjoy the conversation. But never about politics. Never about sports. Never about anything other than wrestling...
...and our children.
"Unconditional love," he'd tell me. Over and over again. It still resonates in my head as I write this blog.
Chris’ whole body language changed when we talked about our children. His voice got softer, his hands opened up and stayed open - he was always squeezing his hands or holding onto the straw in his mouth.
I'm babbling, because I still have no answers, and never will.
It's one of those things we're not supposed to understand, not supposed to be able to comprehend. Because we can't, even in our darkest moments, come remotely close to the very notion of harming our kids, let alone killing them.
Even writing that felt awkward.
It's like trying to wrap your mind around the emotions of a suicide bomber. You can't. You're not supposed to. You shouldn't WANT to be the type of person who understands.
Like in this case.
As I look back at all the media attention, I can submit to you it's a shame that missing in these stories is the tragic loss of three lives.
The professional wrestler, admired and respected by his peers, known in his chosen profession as one of the best in-ring performers the industry has ever known, who will now, much like OJ Simpson, never be remembered for his accomplishments, but only for the deaths his name will forever be attached to.
There's the young girl who got caught up in the wrestling business as a teenager, ended up leaving the business to become a full time mother, whose professional legacy and even worse, whose brutal murder has been eclipsed by the remembrances of what a "good guy" and a "great wrestler" and a "wonderful family man" and a "respected co-worker" her killer was.
And there's a seven-year-old boy, whose room was filled with posters and action figures of his revered father, who has been wrongfully labelled across the world as being a dwarf, or retarded, or a sufferer of Fragile-X, whose wrongly-reported disabilities have been speculated as the cause of the marital strife that many say drove the little boy's beloved father, the murderer, over the edge.
This is a story with no happy ending. It's a tragedy.
A terrible, horrific crime took place in Fayetteville, Georgia, at the home of Chris, Nancy and Daniel Benoit.
And while an entire industry reels in the wake of it, there are people in Edmonton and Florida grieving and trying to cope with the fact that not only have three loved ones perished, but also that no one can seemingly come up with a reason, even a bad reason, as to why.
Michael and Margaret Benoit lost a son, a daughter-in-law, and their grandson, and the family name will forever be tarnished by this heinous crime.
Paul and Maureen Toffoloni lost a daughter, a son-in-law, and their only grandson, and their other daughter Sandy lost her older sister and only nephew.
David and Megan Benoit lost their little half-brother and stepmom, and their father is dead.
I wish I could offer some perspective that would bring closure for people, or a theory that could allow us to even begin to come to grips with it all.
I don't have those words. I've been searching for a way to describe the anger, or the hurt, or the confusion we all feel trying to get past this enormous tragedy.
I've given up. It's just something, as my mother taught me many years ago, you have to live with, accept, and simply deal with for the rest of your life.
The only perspective I can offer is not a comforting one.
On that fateful weekend in June last year, in that house in Fayetville, Georgia, three people lost their lives. Two didn't have a choice.
Direct Link