Remembering Owen: When the Last Teardrop Falls
Rating: PG-13. Summary: This is a short series that I am making, with the focus being Owen
Hart. After his tragic death at Over the Edge, various superstars are searching for ways to cope. Share in their laughter, their tears... as they
remember the man they all loved, Owen Hart. Characters: Owen Hart, Jeff Jarret, Mark Henry, Droz, Test, Bret Hart, etc. Disclaimer: I do not own JJ, or any other characters affiliated with the WWE. This is a tribute to Owen, and is in no way meant in disrespect. The
speech in the confessional room is taken directly from the RAW episode
dedicated to Owen.
------------------------------
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't in the script. He was supposed to lower into the ring by his harness. None of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to defeat the Godfather. None of this was supposed to happen!
I run a hand through my hair slowly as tears prick at my eyes. I can't believe that this is actually happening. Tonight was a night like any other, May 23, 1999. The WWF had come to Kansas City, Missouri for the Over the Edge pay-per-view. Nothing spectacular was set to happen. Debra and I were to lose to Val Venis and Nicole Bass. I could handle that. It was part of the show.
His match was to take place before mine. The Blue Blazer was to defeat the Godfather tonight. But that never happened. The match never happened. As the highlights were being shown, some clips of Owen being shown. as Owen was being lowered to the ring. his harness failed. Owen plummeted fifty feet to the ring. Fifty feet. This never should have happened. Owen deserved to live. He deserved a long, healthy life.
And instead of following the ambulance to the Truman Medical Center, I was forced to wrestle. They expected us to carry on with the show as though nothing had happened. They disgust me. They wanted me to carry on as though Owen wasn't dying at that very moment. So much for the WWF being a family.
So now, here I am sitting silently in a hotel room. My body is numb, devoid of all feeling. devoid of all feeling because my friend was pronounced dead upon arrival at the Truman Medical Center just four hours earlier. I lift my head, looking around at the sullen faces around me. The bloodshot eyes. The tear-stained cheeks. These guys-they're all strong men. Physically they could dominate nearly anyone. And here they are, here we are, the men of the WWF-crying. If only the fans could see this.
I silently rise to my feet. I can't take this any longer. I can't listen to any more stories. Not right now. I just need to fade away. I just need to fade away, to disappear. It is then that I hear a voice, and I force my eyes closed at the sound. "Jeff, man-sit down." It was Dustin Runnels. I simply shook my head.
"No. I'm leaving." I spoke, trying to make my voice sound firm. But it resounded as anything but. It was shaken and scared. I was afraid. I wanted to be alone, to give myself the time to mourn. To cry as I hold the phone to my ear, imagining that my wife was there to hold me. I just needed to get out of this room.
I knew these guys understood what I was going through more than most. These were all guys who were around Owen on a regular basis, who knew him and loved him. But had they been sharing a hotel room with him for the last three months? No. I don't think so.
"You sure you don't want to talk?" Mark Henry spoke, his voice hoarse as he did so. I simply nodded, giving them a mumbled goodbye before leaving the room.
I made my way down the hallway and to my hotel room. To the hotel room that I was supposed to share with Owen. I shook my head silently as I entered the room, sliding the keycard into my pocket silently. A sob quickly began to rise in my throat, losing control in an instant. There, on one of the two beds, lay Owen's suitcase, wide open with a few articles of clothing dangling off of the side. I shook my head, trying hard to cross the room to my bed before my legs gave in. And they quickly did. I broke down, crying on the bed.
Why was this happening? Why had it been this great man, Owen Hart. why had HE died? It should've been Vincent K. McMahon that had died. It was his fault. He had pressured Owen into doing the stunt, knowing full well how Owen felt. How unsure he was about the stunt. Because of Vince McMahon Martha was now without a husband, and Oje and Athena were without their daddy. It was all happening so fast and nothing was making any sense.
My head fell into my hands as my shoulders shook silently. I could feel the tears burning at my eyes, burning so bad. It felt as though someone's hands were violently closing around my throat, restricting my breathing. I didn't understand how I was going to go on. How was I going to go on? He was gone. Maybe it was selfish, but I missed my friend. I couldn't see being on the road without him there with me.
I tried to regulate my breathing, looking down at myself: I was still in my wrestling tights. I was too tired, and too upset to change right now. I just wanted tonight to be over. I wanted to wake up in the morning, and I wanted to see Owen in the bed across from mine. My hand shakily picked up the phone that was on the nightstand and I slowly dialed my wife, Jillian's number. My eyes close, hearing her sweet tone on the other line.
"Hello?"
"Jill.I-- I just want him back." I began, before the stream of tears found me at a loss once again.
*******************
"Just go away!" I grumbled, sitting stiffly on the bed of the hotel room, my back leaning against the wall staring down at a picture of Owen and I through a pair of red, bloodshot eyes.
"Baby. it's me!" I heard Jillian's voice through the door. Instantly, my body shot up and I made my way over to the door and pulled it open. I ran a hand over the back of my neck, trying to stop the throbbing in my head. At the sight of her, my shoulders once again began the rhythmic shaking as the tears slowly began to fall down my cheeks.
"Jill." I barely choke out, lowering my head to her shoulder as she slid her slender arms around my waist, holding me close to her. "Baby, he's-" I began, but I couldn't manage to mutter another word, as my cries became a hard sob, barely able to keep myself on my own two feet, leaning on her for support.
"I know, Jeff, I know." Jill cooed softly, gently running a hand over my back in a soothing motion. "Why don't I come in the hotel room so we can sit down?" She offered softly, brushing the tears that were sliding steadily down my cheeks. I simply nodded.
She gently took hold of my larger hand, leading me into the hotel room, and walking me to the bed where she sat down beside me. "I-I-I can't believe this is really happening, Jill. I mean. he's dead. He's not coming back." My eyes instantly averted from hers and my eyes locked on my hands. She let out a gentle breath drawing me to her by the grip she had on my hands. I willingly went with her, needing her support, her comfort. I just needed her.
*******************
Jillian and I sat in my hotel room a couple of hours later. We had all been asked to come to the arena early. Something was being planned in memory of Owen. I exhaled slowly. They wanted a variety of WWF superstars to tape segments to be aired on Raw. They had requested that I do a segment. I wanted to do it, I truly did. I wanted everyone to know what a great man, friend, husband, and father that Owen was. But I didn't know how I was going to get the words out and make it through the short segment.
I let out a heavy breath, shaking my head as I ran a hand through my short blonde locks. Right now Droz was in there, being taped. I inhaled sharply as I felt Jillian's hands gently kneading my back. "Are you okay?" She whispered softly.
I simply shrugged my shoulders lightly. "No worse than earlier." She placed a tender kiss on my cheek as Droz entered the locker room. I slowly rose to my feet. He had that sad look on his face. I exhaled slowly as I approached him before speaking softly. "You alright, man?" I asked sincerely.
Droz shrugged his shoulder minimally. "Yeah, I'm alright." He nodded. I forced myself to nod as I exhaled. "Are you alright?"
I shrugged my shoulders as if in indifference. "As hard as this is for the rest of us, I know it's that much harder for you, man." He spoke softly, before wrapping his arms around me. My eyes closed tightly at the gesture, a stray tear falling against his shoulder.
"Thanks man." I spoke, wiping my eyes and clearing my throat. "I, uh-I appreciate it."
Droz nodded his head lightly before speaking softly. "It's your turn in the, uh, in the 'confessional' room." I barely nodded at his words, swallowing the lump in my throat. Jill took my hand into hers as I said goodbye to Droz, and made my way into the hallway, heading towards the room where I was to be taped. I exhaled slowly. This was it. It was my turn to tell the world who Owen was. Who he really was. I had to make sure they understood. no matter how much I was hurting inside they had to know.
Jillian and I reached the room that I was to go into, and recall my memories and thought on Owen. I paused for a short moment, letting out a slow breath. "I've gotta do this alone. I-I have to."
Jillian nodded in understanding, gently brushing away the dampness on my cheeks. "I know you do." She whispered softly. "I'll be in your locker room, waiting. you come back when you're ready." And with that, Jillian placed a gentle kiss on my lips before making her way back down the hallway.
I bravely placed my hand on the knob, slowly entering the room. I made my way in front of the camera, sitting down in the chair that was placed directly in front of it. My eyes landed on the cameraman. "You can start whenever you want, Jeff." I recognized the voice as Mike, one of the guys that was on the crew. I nodded minimally as I began to collect my thoughts.
"In this business, I guess you've got a lot of acquaintances, and very few friends." I paused for a moment, bowing my head forward as a sob rose in my throat, choking me for a short moment before I lifted my head up, willing myself to continue as I looked at the camera for a short moment before my eyes moved to the side, locking on the wall as I spoke. "And Owen, he was one of those friends. And-And. there's a lot of funny stories, his personality, the things he used to do. I've told my wife a bunch of times the last couple of months that I've been with Owen on the road that I see Owen more than I see her and my little girl. And he said the same thing. And now that he's not here."
I paused, bowing my head again so as to mask some of the anguish on my face. My shoulders shook lightly as I tried to fight the hurt inside. He was gone. Owen was really gone. I let out an uneasy breath before continuing. "It's.it's. you look at it almost selfishly. That I don't have my buddy and my friend with me anymore." I swallowed down the lump that had started pushing it's way up again. I had to get through this. I had to get through this. For Owen. "And I know Owen's in a better place-life isn't cuttin' up. But when you really think about Owen's life, I think about integrity. Because in this business it's cold, it's callous, it's selfish, it's self-serving, it's unrealistic: it's a fantasy world.
"But Owen was real. He was a man's man. His wife and kids." I exhaled sharply at the mention of his family, feeling tears burning hot against my eyes as I regained my composure to speak. ".three of the luckiest people in the world. Because he loved them more than anything in the world. And that's why he did what he did: to provide for them. And he did it with integrity. And integrity in this business is few and far between. That's not a good thing to know, but it's the truth.
"And outside all the laughs, because on the road without the laughs." There was a slight pause as my mind began to wander, and I spoke again. "Ya know, the fans get to see Owen for ten, fifteen minutes a week. But when you see him twenty-four hours a day for ten and twelve days at a time. he's one of the guys that made it fun; made coming to work entertaining off the camera, and that's just as important as on the camera." My eyes closed as I bowed my head, my chin quivering as my mind went back to Owen, truly devouring the thought that I would never see him again. His family would never see him again. And poor Oje and Athena, they were now fatherless.
"Owen. I'll make the promise to you. Because you've got two little kids, and I've got a little one of my own. as they grow older, the only thing that they might have to find out what their dad was like is wrestling films. But I made the promise to myself that as the years go by, I'm gonna do my best to let them. to let Oje and Athena really know what a great man you-you were, Owen." I paused, shaking my head from side to side. I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't talk to this camera any longer. "That's it. I can't-I don't know." And with that, Mike turned the camera off and I was done.
"Thank you." I mumbled quietly, wiping my eyes as I slowly rose to my feet, sniffling back my tears, taking one of the OH armbands off the table on my way out.
*******************
That night on Monday Night Raw, I would face a rookie in the business, Andrew Martin, otherwise known as Test in a match. All in all the technical moves were there. I focused my mind on the match completely for Owen. Tonight was for Owen, to show him how much we loved him, and missed him; it was a night to celebrate Owen's life.
We all learned from Owen. We learned that the little arguments about pettiness didn't matter. We learned that what really mattered was love, family, integrity, and friendships. We learned not to take for granted the relationships that we had with one another, but to cherish them. All we had were each other, and if we took that for granted. then what did we have?
As the match neared an end that night with Test, I saw him slowing down. He didn't have the energy he was displaying at the onset of the match. I waited until the opportunity was right. I knew what was scripted: I was to win the match, by submission, by figure four.
As I wrapped his legs around mine, setting him up for the submission hold, I paused. I slowly turned Test over, squatting my body down. as I locked the Sharp Shooter on him. My eyes closed as I heard the bell ring, and a loud cheer erupting from the crowd.
This one's for you, Owen.
Rating: PG-13. Summary: This is a short series that I am making, with the focus being Owen
Hart. After his tragic death at Over the Edge, various superstars are searching for ways to cope. Share in their laughter, their tears... as they
remember the man they all loved, Owen Hart. Characters: Owen Hart, Jeff Jarret, Mark Henry, Droz, Test, Bret Hart, etc. Disclaimer: I do not own JJ, or any other characters affiliated with the WWE. This is a tribute to Owen, and is in no way meant in disrespect. The
speech in the confessional room is taken directly from the RAW episode
dedicated to Owen.
------------------------------
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It wasn't in the script. He was supposed to lower into the ring by his harness. None of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to defeat the Godfather. None of this was supposed to happen!
I run a hand through my hair slowly as tears prick at my eyes. I can't believe that this is actually happening. Tonight was a night like any other, May 23, 1999. The WWF had come to Kansas City, Missouri for the Over the Edge pay-per-view. Nothing spectacular was set to happen. Debra and I were to lose to Val Venis and Nicole Bass. I could handle that. It was part of the show.
His match was to take place before mine. The Blue Blazer was to defeat the Godfather tonight. But that never happened. The match never happened. As the highlights were being shown, some clips of Owen being shown. as Owen was being lowered to the ring. his harness failed. Owen plummeted fifty feet to the ring. Fifty feet. This never should have happened. Owen deserved to live. He deserved a long, healthy life.
And instead of following the ambulance to the Truman Medical Center, I was forced to wrestle. They expected us to carry on with the show as though nothing had happened. They disgust me. They wanted me to carry on as though Owen wasn't dying at that very moment. So much for the WWF being a family.
So now, here I am sitting silently in a hotel room. My body is numb, devoid of all feeling. devoid of all feeling because my friend was pronounced dead upon arrival at the Truman Medical Center just four hours earlier. I lift my head, looking around at the sullen faces around me. The bloodshot eyes. The tear-stained cheeks. These guys-they're all strong men. Physically they could dominate nearly anyone. And here they are, here we are, the men of the WWF-crying. If only the fans could see this.
I silently rise to my feet. I can't take this any longer. I can't listen to any more stories. Not right now. I just need to fade away. I just need to fade away, to disappear. It is then that I hear a voice, and I force my eyes closed at the sound. "Jeff, man-sit down." It was Dustin Runnels. I simply shook my head.
"No. I'm leaving." I spoke, trying to make my voice sound firm. But it resounded as anything but. It was shaken and scared. I was afraid. I wanted to be alone, to give myself the time to mourn. To cry as I hold the phone to my ear, imagining that my wife was there to hold me. I just needed to get out of this room.
I knew these guys understood what I was going through more than most. These were all guys who were around Owen on a regular basis, who knew him and loved him. But had they been sharing a hotel room with him for the last three months? No. I don't think so.
"You sure you don't want to talk?" Mark Henry spoke, his voice hoarse as he did so. I simply nodded, giving them a mumbled goodbye before leaving the room.
I made my way down the hallway and to my hotel room. To the hotel room that I was supposed to share with Owen. I shook my head silently as I entered the room, sliding the keycard into my pocket silently. A sob quickly began to rise in my throat, losing control in an instant. There, on one of the two beds, lay Owen's suitcase, wide open with a few articles of clothing dangling off of the side. I shook my head, trying hard to cross the room to my bed before my legs gave in. And they quickly did. I broke down, crying on the bed.
Why was this happening? Why had it been this great man, Owen Hart. why had HE died? It should've been Vincent K. McMahon that had died. It was his fault. He had pressured Owen into doing the stunt, knowing full well how Owen felt. How unsure he was about the stunt. Because of Vince McMahon Martha was now without a husband, and Oje and Athena were without their daddy. It was all happening so fast and nothing was making any sense.
My head fell into my hands as my shoulders shook silently. I could feel the tears burning at my eyes, burning so bad. It felt as though someone's hands were violently closing around my throat, restricting my breathing. I didn't understand how I was going to go on. How was I going to go on? He was gone. Maybe it was selfish, but I missed my friend. I couldn't see being on the road without him there with me.
I tried to regulate my breathing, looking down at myself: I was still in my wrestling tights. I was too tired, and too upset to change right now. I just wanted tonight to be over. I wanted to wake up in the morning, and I wanted to see Owen in the bed across from mine. My hand shakily picked up the phone that was on the nightstand and I slowly dialed my wife, Jillian's number. My eyes close, hearing her sweet tone on the other line.
"Hello?"
"Jill.I-- I just want him back." I began, before the stream of tears found me at a loss once again.
*******************
"Just go away!" I grumbled, sitting stiffly on the bed of the hotel room, my back leaning against the wall staring down at a picture of Owen and I through a pair of red, bloodshot eyes.
"Baby. it's me!" I heard Jillian's voice through the door. Instantly, my body shot up and I made my way over to the door and pulled it open. I ran a hand over the back of my neck, trying to stop the throbbing in my head. At the sight of her, my shoulders once again began the rhythmic shaking as the tears slowly began to fall down my cheeks.
"Jill." I barely choke out, lowering my head to her shoulder as she slid her slender arms around my waist, holding me close to her. "Baby, he's-" I began, but I couldn't manage to mutter another word, as my cries became a hard sob, barely able to keep myself on my own two feet, leaning on her for support.
"I know, Jeff, I know." Jill cooed softly, gently running a hand over my back in a soothing motion. "Why don't I come in the hotel room so we can sit down?" She offered softly, brushing the tears that were sliding steadily down my cheeks. I simply nodded.
She gently took hold of my larger hand, leading me into the hotel room, and walking me to the bed where she sat down beside me. "I-I-I can't believe this is really happening, Jill. I mean. he's dead. He's not coming back." My eyes instantly averted from hers and my eyes locked on my hands. She let out a gentle breath drawing me to her by the grip she had on my hands. I willingly went with her, needing her support, her comfort. I just needed her.
*******************
Jillian and I sat in my hotel room a couple of hours later. We had all been asked to come to the arena early. Something was being planned in memory of Owen. I exhaled slowly. They wanted a variety of WWF superstars to tape segments to be aired on Raw. They had requested that I do a segment. I wanted to do it, I truly did. I wanted everyone to know what a great man, friend, husband, and father that Owen was. But I didn't know how I was going to get the words out and make it through the short segment.
I let out a heavy breath, shaking my head as I ran a hand through my short blonde locks. Right now Droz was in there, being taped. I inhaled sharply as I felt Jillian's hands gently kneading my back. "Are you okay?" She whispered softly.
I simply shrugged my shoulders lightly. "No worse than earlier." She placed a tender kiss on my cheek as Droz entered the locker room. I slowly rose to my feet. He had that sad look on his face. I exhaled slowly as I approached him before speaking softly. "You alright, man?" I asked sincerely.
Droz shrugged his shoulder minimally. "Yeah, I'm alright." He nodded. I forced myself to nod as I exhaled. "Are you alright?"
I shrugged my shoulders as if in indifference. "As hard as this is for the rest of us, I know it's that much harder for you, man." He spoke softly, before wrapping his arms around me. My eyes closed tightly at the gesture, a stray tear falling against his shoulder.
"Thanks man." I spoke, wiping my eyes and clearing my throat. "I, uh-I appreciate it."
Droz nodded his head lightly before speaking softly. "It's your turn in the, uh, in the 'confessional' room." I barely nodded at his words, swallowing the lump in my throat. Jill took my hand into hers as I said goodbye to Droz, and made my way into the hallway, heading towards the room where I was to be taped. I exhaled slowly. This was it. It was my turn to tell the world who Owen was. Who he really was. I had to make sure they understood. no matter how much I was hurting inside they had to know.
Jillian and I reached the room that I was to go into, and recall my memories and thought on Owen. I paused for a short moment, letting out a slow breath. "I've gotta do this alone. I-I have to."
Jillian nodded in understanding, gently brushing away the dampness on my cheeks. "I know you do." She whispered softly. "I'll be in your locker room, waiting. you come back when you're ready." And with that, Jillian placed a gentle kiss on my lips before making her way back down the hallway.
I bravely placed my hand on the knob, slowly entering the room. I made my way in front of the camera, sitting down in the chair that was placed directly in front of it. My eyes landed on the cameraman. "You can start whenever you want, Jeff." I recognized the voice as Mike, one of the guys that was on the crew. I nodded minimally as I began to collect my thoughts.
"In this business, I guess you've got a lot of acquaintances, and very few friends." I paused for a moment, bowing my head forward as a sob rose in my throat, choking me for a short moment before I lifted my head up, willing myself to continue as I looked at the camera for a short moment before my eyes moved to the side, locking on the wall as I spoke. "And Owen, he was one of those friends. And-And. there's a lot of funny stories, his personality, the things he used to do. I've told my wife a bunch of times the last couple of months that I've been with Owen on the road that I see Owen more than I see her and my little girl. And he said the same thing. And now that he's not here."
I paused, bowing my head again so as to mask some of the anguish on my face. My shoulders shook lightly as I tried to fight the hurt inside. He was gone. Owen was really gone. I let out an uneasy breath before continuing. "It's.it's. you look at it almost selfishly. That I don't have my buddy and my friend with me anymore." I swallowed down the lump that had started pushing it's way up again. I had to get through this. I had to get through this. For Owen. "And I know Owen's in a better place-life isn't cuttin' up. But when you really think about Owen's life, I think about integrity. Because in this business it's cold, it's callous, it's selfish, it's self-serving, it's unrealistic: it's a fantasy world.
"But Owen was real. He was a man's man. His wife and kids." I exhaled sharply at the mention of his family, feeling tears burning hot against my eyes as I regained my composure to speak. ".three of the luckiest people in the world. Because he loved them more than anything in the world. And that's why he did what he did: to provide for them. And he did it with integrity. And integrity in this business is few and far between. That's not a good thing to know, but it's the truth.
"And outside all the laughs, because on the road without the laughs." There was a slight pause as my mind began to wander, and I spoke again. "Ya know, the fans get to see Owen for ten, fifteen minutes a week. But when you see him twenty-four hours a day for ten and twelve days at a time. he's one of the guys that made it fun; made coming to work entertaining off the camera, and that's just as important as on the camera." My eyes closed as I bowed my head, my chin quivering as my mind went back to Owen, truly devouring the thought that I would never see him again. His family would never see him again. And poor Oje and Athena, they were now fatherless.
"Owen. I'll make the promise to you. Because you've got two little kids, and I've got a little one of my own. as they grow older, the only thing that they might have to find out what their dad was like is wrestling films. But I made the promise to myself that as the years go by, I'm gonna do my best to let them. to let Oje and Athena really know what a great man you-you were, Owen." I paused, shaking my head from side to side. I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't talk to this camera any longer. "That's it. I can't-I don't know." And with that, Mike turned the camera off and I was done.
"Thank you." I mumbled quietly, wiping my eyes as I slowly rose to my feet, sniffling back my tears, taking one of the OH armbands off the table on my way out.
*******************
That night on Monday Night Raw, I would face a rookie in the business, Andrew Martin, otherwise known as Test in a match. All in all the technical moves were there. I focused my mind on the match completely for Owen. Tonight was for Owen, to show him how much we loved him, and missed him; it was a night to celebrate Owen's life.
We all learned from Owen. We learned that the little arguments about pettiness didn't matter. We learned that what really mattered was love, family, integrity, and friendships. We learned not to take for granted the relationships that we had with one another, but to cherish them. All we had were each other, and if we took that for granted. then what did we have?
As the match neared an end that night with Test, I saw him slowing down. He didn't have the energy he was displaying at the onset of the match. I waited until the opportunity was right. I knew what was scripted: I was to win the match, by submission, by figure four.
As I wrapped his legs around mine, setting him up for the submission hold, I paused. I slowly turned Test over, squatting my body down. as I locked the Sharp Shooter on him. My eyes closed as I heard the bell ring, and a loud cheer erupting from the crowd.
This one's for you, Owen.