Closure.

One day I woke up, and everyone I knew from my youth was gone.

 

I’m not really sure when it happened. I am not even sure where they went. They were just gone. And I was left alone, an old man. 

I had to ask how I, of all people, had managed to make it. I wasn’t exactly careful during my career. It is well known that I am a risk taker, a high flier, a person who not only enjoys, but thrives on blood n’ guts battles. I don’t really have an answer, to be honest. 

Then again, I didn’t really make it, did I?

Sure, I am on the show. Somehow I’ve managed to start some sort of feud with the Universal Champion. I’ve heard the word “crumb” more times this last week than a manager at a Famous Amos factory.  Still, deep down Cancer Jiles is…well he is an asshole. Sometimes there is just not enough glaze for a shit flavored donut. 

I like to think, in my moments of self-importance, that I am still a valuable member of the roster. Maybe a different part of the roster though? Wade, Dam, Nick and Richard…they are all a part of the show. They are all valuable. Dam is a good dude too. He writes poetry in his free time and I have to say that his evocative use of nature reminds me a lot of Robert Frost. 

There’s a weird dichotomy to how life unfolds. I am forced into spending time with these two men. They couldn’t be more different. Yet, the same thing drives them at the end of the day. They are both a part of this circus world. For those of us that have chosen to be a part of this game, there isn’t a time in our life when we didn’t hate it while we were in the show. And there isn’t a time when we don’t miss it when we are not.  

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Closure.

• A sense of resolution or conclusion at the end of an artistic work.
• A feeling that an emotional or traumatic experience has been resolved.

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It had been a while since Timo spoke with either of his sons. He figured the best course of action would be to try Junior first. They were always very close, and Eddie tended to favor his mom. Somewhere along the way, both of them and Timo had lost track with one another. The Samoan couldn’t put his finger on where that was exactly, because he hadn’t exactly moved away, they had. 

Timo pulled out his phone and dialed Junior’s number. The trilling ringtone was met by an abrupt stop and a cheery greeting “Talofa Papa!” 

“Hi Junior!” Timo answered. “How are you, my son?”

Junior was happy to hear from his father. It had been too long for them both and every day that went by seemed like they just missed one another. With Timo’s new job and Junior’s busy lifestyle things just weren’t that easy. Still, Junior had told Timo via text not long ago that he had decided to stop training with Dave Gibson. His brother, though, had not. 

“Oh you know me, Papa.” Junior laughed, deep and hearty. His voice was the same booming voice of his Grandfather, Rufan. “I am working most days. I just received a review and a pay raise!”

Timo smiled. All the money in the world is at his beck and call and he wants to earn his place in the world. The Samoan could respect that. “I am proud to hear that Junior, really. Say, your mother and I talked the other day…”

“Oh, what did the old lady have to say pops?”

“Hey! Treat your mother with respect, Junior. She is your mother and always will be.” Timo snipped at his son. 

“I know, I know.” Junior paused. “I’m just playing around. For real though Dad, did she tell you about anything?”

Timo sighed. “I suppose you mean her remarrying and changing her name. Yeah. She told me.”

“Yeah.” a pause. “You ok with that?”

Timo didn’t really have a choice but to be okay with it. “Yeah. I’ll get by.” He allowed the conversation to drift a little into dead time, but decided to press forward in a different direction. “So Junior, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah Papa, me too. But you go first.”

The Samoan was rarely at a lack for words, but something made this harder than it needed to be for him. Finally he summoned up his grit and spoke plainly. “I haven’t been a good father.”

“Dad…”

“No, Junior, let me finish.” Timo interrupted his son. “I spent most of your youth on the road, I wasn’t there for you or your brother emotionally. I missed a lot. I wish I had a good excuse but the reality is I spent so long chasing a dream that I missed out on living a dream that was right in front of me.”

His son, for his part, listens. 

“Junior, I love you. I have always loved you. I am sorry that I wasn’t enough. You deserved more. You deserved to have a present father that was there for your wrestling matches in school, your first date, your birthdays, your graduation. I missed so much. And I didn’t even have a good excuse, to be honest.” The elder Samoan’s voice is solemn yet flecked with softness. “I want to be a better man. I have obligations to PRIME, but I would like it very much if I could come see you in my off time and maybe start over?”

Junior sniffed a little. He finally replied, his deep voice cracking ever so slightly. “Papa, you’ve always been enough for me. I just needed you sometimes and you weren’t there. But I know you love me. I know you hurt,” he paused ever so briefly and continued. “I actually think I can help with your wish, though.”

“Oh?”

“Well, there is a reason I quit training with Uncle Dave and got this job.”   

Timo wondered exactly what his son was getting at. He definitely had the Bolamba gift to drag out a statement and dance around a point. “Do you need help? I can send money any time, Junior.”

“No it’s not like that Papa. I have been dating a girl for a while now named Mandy and, well, she is pregnant.”

Timo had seen and done a lot of things. Wrestling in Shanghai, Alliances, Sgt. Cancer and the Lonely Fart Club Band. Years of battles, both physical and mental, had taken their toll on his body. He sat down and let out a deep prolonged breath. 

“Papa, are you mad?”

He felt tears welling in his eyes. This was different than before. A great surge of pride burst from his heart. “I…I am going to be a Grandpa?”

A pregnant pause. 

“Yeah, Papa.” Junior seems relieved. “The doctor says we passed the danger zone and we can start telling people. Even better, we are a little further along than that and we can tell you the gender, if you want to know.”

“Um, yeah, I think I should like that, Junior.”

“It is a little girl,” Junior replies, softly. 

“Nafanua,” Timo softly mutters to himself. 

“What?”

“Nothing, Junior. It is just a story from your Grandmother,” Timo responds. 

Junior and Timo share a brief moment where neither speaks but they both seem to know exactly what the other is feeling. “You’re ok, Papa? This is ok?”

Timo feels the tear roll down his cheek, it is just one, but it is important. It is not a tear of sadness, or desperation, or feeling lost. It is a tear that tells him he is human, after all, and that he is enough for this world. 

“Junior, I am so incredibly happy. I want you and Mandy to know that I will always be there to support you.”

Junior laughs that deep Rufan laugh once again. “Ok Papa, but please don’t go overboard. I’d like to try to do this my own way.”

Timo smiles. “You’re a Bolamba. You wouldn’t know another way to do it.” 

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It all ends in the same place it started. In a black 1977 Pontiac Trans Am. Timo had this car long before he was anything. It was the first thing he ever bought with his work money back when he used to clean his fathers gym and put up rings for shows. It was the only thing he had to tie him back to where it all began.

He was just a kid then. He didn’t know anything about this business, the pitfalls, the con-men, wolves, the friends, the people who had your back. Would he do it differently if he could?

It’s impossible to explain any of this to someone who isn’t involved. There is a very real addiction to the crowd. There are highs and lows that normal people will never, ever, experience. 

Some of the bookers along the way were good people. Lindsay Troy is one of them. Timo felt like she genuinely cared about him and had his best interest at heart. 

Some of them were not good people. It’s no different in that way than any other job. 

Would he trade it all for a chance to go back and do things different? That old cliche? Nah. It was worth it. All of it. The faces might change along with the years, but it’s still worth it, just in a different way than before.    

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Timo knew he had a couple more calls to make. 

He pushed the touchscreen in his car to call Dr. Hannerman. He picked up rather quickly and greeted me in his customary way.

“Hello, this is Dr. Eric Hannerman, how may I help you?” 

The tone of his voice was warm and soothing. Timo loved it.

“Hey Doc,” the Samoan answered.   

“Hey Timo!” he replied briskly. “How are you today?”

The Samoan Silencer, for all his bravery, pain, fearlessness, stubbornness, and pride smiled genuinely as he answered the doctor. “I am doing great, Doc.”

Dr. Hannerman was briefly taken aback. “Well that is good. What is the occasion?”

Even though nobody could see him, he shook his head. “No occasion Doc. I just…I think it’s going to be okay.”

“That is good to hear, Timo. What makes you say that?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I am someone who is respected and I am happy as an official in PRIME.”

“Those are certainly good revelations, Timo. Can you share with me how you came to these thoughts?”

“Sure.” Timo shifted a bit in his seat. “I was talking to Gwen the other day…”

“Wait…you called your ex-wife?”

“Yeah, keep up Doc.” 

“O…K…continue, I guess.”

“As I was saying I was talking to Gwen and I realized that time has passed. She is happy, and I should be happy for her. Maybe,” Timo allowed a moment to weigh his words. “Maybe it is time I allow myself to be happy too. Maybe I need to be done torturing myself for who I used to be and become who I am.”

“That is a very positive and healthy outlook, Timo.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Anyhow, I started to think about the ways that I am valuable and realized that I have so much to offer this world. Beyond the money, beyond the fame. I am a good person. I am proud of who I have become and I deserve happiness.”  

“I am genuinely happy to hear you say that, Timo.” Dr. Hannerman has a positive beat in his voice. “Do you think you will want to continue your therapy? Of course, I must insist that you do.”

“Yes,” Timo wasted no time answering. “I think I will. Because I am only one person and some days will be harder than others. Because I am not descended from Tagaloa, but I am just a man. Because I fought for this, Doc. I went into the match of my life, and I beat the beast.”

“Good,” came the answer. “I am glad you recognize yourself Timo. It’s been a long time since you did.”

The Samoan Silencer breathed deep. His lungs filled with great fall swells of brisk air and the smell of a freshly upholstered car. He reached down and pushed the button to end the conversation and flipped to his streaming music. He had just the song in mind. 

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“Famous Last Words” by Billy Joel 

 

Sitting here in Avalon

Looking at the pouring rain

The summertime has come and gone

And everybody’s home again

 

Closing down for the season, I found the last of the souvenirs

I can still taste the wedding cake

And it’s sweet after all these years

 

These are the last words I have to say

That’s why it took so long to write

There will be other words some other day

But that’s the story of my life

 

Comfort in my coffee cup

The apples in the early fall

They’re pulling all the moorings up

And gathering at the legion hall

 

Swept away all the streamers after the labor day parade

There’s nothing left for a dreamer, now

Only one final serenade

 

And these are the last words I have to say

Before another age goes by

With all those other songs I’ll have to play

But that’s the story of my life

 

And it’s so clear standing here where I am

Ain’t that what justice is for?

And frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn anymore

 

Hey, yeah

 

Stack the chairs on the table tops, hang the sheets on the chandeliers

It slows down but it never stops

Ain’t it sweet after all these years?

 

And these are the last words I have to say

It’s always hard to say goodbye, hey oh oh

But now it’s time to put this book away

Then that’s the story of my life

Hey, oh oh oh

 

These are the last words I have to say

That’s why it took so long to write

There will be other words some other day

Ain’t that the story of my life?

Hey, oh oh oh

 

These are the last words I have to say

Before another age goes by

With all those other songs I’ll have to play

Ain’t that the story of my life?

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I reached down and prodded the button to call Eddie, my other son. The phone trilled a few times and went to voicemail. “Hey, this is Eddie, leave me a message and I’ll call you back after this round.”

“Hey Eddie, I just wanted to talk a bit. Your brother has some big news, though I suspect you already know that, as close as you two are.”

“How is your training? Is Dave doing a good job or do I have to come down there and give him the “Cave-In” for old times sake?

I laughed nervously.

“Look, I know things weren’t great for us. I just want you to know I heard you will be coming around soon. I guess I don’t have much to say about that except…”

My whole life. Everything I ever did, said, accomplished in that ring. It can’t be taken away. But maybe…just maybe he will do it all better than I ever did. 

“Good luck, Eddie. I love you.”

 

These are the last words I have to say.