Maybe I should have done this earlier

[Megan Benoit]

Daddy, maybe I should have done this five years ago. Maybe I should wait another five years. I don’t know. I’m not sure what I know anymore, except this.

You held me when I was only hours old. I have the video still. I was crying in the bassinet thing, and you picked me up because mom was sleeping, and I immediately stopped crying.

When I was four, I let go of your hand in a Wal-Mart parking lot, while you put the groceries in the car. When you turned around, you saw me sitting on the ground, behind a car which was pulling out of its spot. You grabbed me, and pushed me out of harm’s way, risking your own life.

When I was five, you taught me to swim. I was scared, but you didn’t let go of me until I had stopped crying. You provided more protection than the arm floaties you put on me. When the air began to leak out of them, and I began to sink, you dove in after me, clothes and all, and hauled me out of the water, holding me until I stopped shivering and fell asleep, and you carried me to my bed. From that moment on, you always had a hold on me whenever I was in water, until you were sure I knew how to float. You later told me that was the scariest moment of your life.

I was five when I told you I wanted to “learn wrestling”. You laughed, but obliged, teaching me to correctly take front and back bumps. I cried at first, and you told me I could quit if I wanted to. But I had seen you in the ring, and wanted to do what you did, so I refused. You showed me how to correctly execute a sharpshooter, and whenever you put me in it, you never applied any pressure, until, when I was six, I asked you to.

When I was six, you taught me to ride a two-wheel bike. I crashed into a tree and broke my finger. You scooped me up, held me until I stopped crying, and taped my finger. You asked if I wanted to try again, and I said yes. By the end of that day, I was riding my bike without help.

When I was seven, my little brother, Daniel, was born. You placed him in my arms when he was 5 days old. I thought he was a baby doll, and tried to treat him as one, until you informed me he was a real baby, and not a doll. You let me feed him, and help change his diaper.

I was eight when you showed me the crippler crossface. You hesitated to place me in it, until I begged you to. Of course, I tapped out almost immediately. But before long, I was able to place you in both the sharpshooter and the crippler. You never tapped to the sharpshooter, but you did once to the crippler. . You told me that even though I was little, I’d still be able to make the crippler effective if I leaned all my weight back, with the only thing keeping me from falling being my opponent.

When I was nine, you took me to my first live WWE show backstage. I think you had faced Shawn Micheals. I remember you won, and I leaped into your arms the moment you returned backstage. That same year, I took you for show-and-tell at school. I led you around by the hand proudly saying, “This is my daddy. He’s a professional wrestler.” I was so happy.

When I was ten, I saw you cry for the first time in my life. For school, I was supposed to write a paper about my hero in life, and I wrote about you. I said that you were the only man I’d ever love, that you saved my life when I was four, and again when I was five, that you’d never let any harm come to me, that you’d once sued a man when he nearly ran me over, that you’d fixed my finger when it broke. I wrote of you as an invincible man, because I truly thought you were. When I showed you the paper, you started crying and I asked you, “Daddy, what’s wrong?” In reply, you hugged me and told me you loved me.

When I was eleven, you took me to the 2004 Royal Rumble. I sat in your dressing room, watching the Rumble. You entered at number one and eventually dumped Big Show over the top rope to win, becoming the second man in history to enter at one and win. I would have ran out to the ring had one of the refs not grabbed my arm, stopping me. When you came back, you found me in tears, and told the ref to get his hands off me. You carried me back to your dressing room, and I told you that I was upset that I didn’t get to go out and hug you. You told me that being able to hug me backstage was enough, that you were more happy holding me than you were winning the Rumble.

Shortly before WrestleMania 20, I was jumping on a trampoline and broke my leg. The car was in the shop at the time, so you carried me to the hospital. When you took me to WrestleMania 20, along with David, Daniel, and my stepmom, Nancy, you told me to stay backstage and not to move. When you defeated Shawn Micheals and Triple H for the World Heavyweight Championship, I wanted to go out and hug you, but the wrestler you had instructed to not let me move wouldn’t let me. For the rest of the day, you allowed me to carry around the Title, and even put it around my waist, though it was too big and kept sliding off.

When I was thirteen, you decided to see how I would fare in a real match. You didn’t trust anyone but yourself not to hurt me, so you took me to FCW. Almost instantly, you got me in a Crippler, but I managed to get my foot on the ropes. In turn, I put you in a sharpshooter, but you managed to break it. No one won that match, it was a double count-out because you went for a falling headbutt, and I tried spearing you, and that just didn’t work. At all. I ended up running headfirst into the turnbuckle and you headbutted the canvas.

On June 18, 2007, you dropped me off at mom’s. You hugged me and told me you loved me, that nothing would ever change that. You also told me to never give up, no matter what happens. Perhaps I should have known.

Less than a week later, I received the most terrifying news of my life. Daniel, Nancy, and you were found dead.

Two weeks after hearing that, I held a gun to my head, prepared to end my life so I could be with you again. But then I saw a photo of you and heard you saying to me, “Meggie, whatever happens, don’t give up. I love you, babygirl.” I couldn’t pull the trigger. Not to mention, I knew that if I did, you would come back to life, bring me back to life, and kill me all over again. Literally. You would find a way to return to life, if it was the last thing you did. Partly because you were just a little terrifying when you were mad and mostly because I knew you wouldn’t want me to do that was what made me go to mom and give her the gun. She pulled me into her arms, and held me until I fell asleep.

Daddy, you are still me hero. You have risked your life for me not once, but twice. You are still, to this day, the only man I have ever loved. Yes, I love David and Daniel, but it’s not the same. I know you didn’t kill Daniel and Nancy, and I know you didn’t kill yourself either. I am going to find out who did. I don’t know how, and I don’t know when. But I promise this, I will clear your name. I love you, Daddy.