I would just like reiterate that this is not an erotic story. This is an account of my feelings around the death of WWE superstar Eddie Guerrero.
In loving memory of Eddie Guerrero, 1967-2005.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, I felt fine, normal. My fiancΓ© walked into the room and asked me if I'd been to WWE.com yet, and I said that I hadn't. His face got very serious and he said there was bad news.
Hurrying to my computer with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I clicked open the link to the website. Front and center on the page was the horrible news. Eddie Guerrero, at the age of 38, had been found dead.
I could only sit and stare at the screen. When I spoke, the only thing that would come out was 'Oh my God!' I was unable to believe it for a few moments. Staring blankly at the screen, I waited for the words to change to something I could understand. Tears actually came to my eyes.
It was such a surprise. Eddie was so young, and in great physical shape. He'd conquered a drug and alcohol addiction, and the day before he died was his fourth anniversary clean and sober. I had just seen him wrestling in the ring a few days before, and Latino Heat had been as hot as ever.
Over the next few days more news came out. He and his nephew Chavo Guerrero, also a wrestler, had met on the plane to Minneapolis. They had hung out for the evening, and made plans to go to the gym the next day, each arranging a wake up call. Eddie didn't answer his, and Chavo was concerned. He went up to Eddie's room with some hotel staff and they opened the door for him. Eddie was in the bathroom.
Monday night Raw was a very solemn event. Eddie had touched so many lives, professionally and personally, and several of the wrestlers were in tears. It was a beautiful and very sad show. Everyone said that Eddie would want the show to go on, and it did.