I could spend the rest of my life talking about how I wish I’d had the last twenty years with Joanie. I could talk about the mistakes I made, the way I drove us apart, and what eventually brought us back together. That’s a road she’d never let me go down. She wanted to be thankful for “right now”. So in her honor, I won’t talk about the things I wish I would have done, but rather, I’ll say that the last 9 years weren’t enough, but they were the happiest I’ve ever been.
I’ve read so much about what Joanie meant to others. So much is being said about what a pioneer, a trailblazer, a class act she was. I’m glad people know that she was kind, smart, and funny. She may have been funnier than me, and let’s face it, that’s not easy to do. When I see what she meant to all of you, that she inspired you, that she was a role model, I can’t tell you how immensely proud that makes me. She taught me so much.
Being married to Joanie taught me more than I can possibly recount. Three things, however, come to mind. The first of which was that if you give a woman the right pair of shoes, she can conquer the world. The second was the power of forgiveness. Joanie truly forgave those who wronged her, including me, and somehow, that forgiveness seemed to give her such peace. True forgiveness can heal the most festering wound, and people who practice the kind of forgiveness that Joan did, see joy multiplied in their lives. Finally, Joanie taught me that nothing, not even me, is stronger than a little love and compassion. There was a time in her life that Joan could powerslam men without any trouble. Much has been said about how physically strong she was. But I’m here to tell you, you hadn’t seen the strength of Joanie Helmsley until you saw a mother’s love move mountains. You hadn’t seen her strength until you saw the way she brought people together after the terrible tragedy that struck EBWF a few years ago. You hadn’t seen her strength until you saw her lead, or until you saw her pull herself up after getting knocked down. As she got older, her muscular frame started to fade to something more slim and svelte. She traded her bar bells for yoga mats and Zumba classes. Some people said it was her way of trying to keep up with the industries impossible beauty standards. Others said it was because she’d only ever been into weight lifting because of me. Truthfully, it was just what Joan wanted to do. The “Reconstruction of Chyna” she called it. All Joanie ever wanted was to be there for her kids, and to continue to love this life she lived. I admired her for it. I have often found myself wishing I could show everyone the kind of love and compassion she showed complete strangers. She made me better.
I did bring Joanie home from Nashville. We’ll have a private service for her next week, and then, per her wishes, she’ll be cremated. We’ll spread her ashes around our property here in San Antonio, and near Shawn and Becky’s lake, where Joanie always rode her horses and where our kids spend most of their summers. She used to tell me that this little piece of land I gave her was her favorite place on earth. I think this is probably where she’d like to stay.
The four of us went to a carnival just a couple of days before she left for Nashville. We were walking back to our car, and this is the last photo I have of Joan on my phone. Though it would be easy for you to remember her by photos with championship belts, as a centerfold, or on red carpets, this is how I hope you’ll remember her. With joy, and love, laughter and kindness.
I’ve had three amazing jobs in my life. Morgan & Michael’s Daddy, Joanie’s Husband, Professional Wrestler. I’m no longer two of those things, and I’d be lying if I told you that I know where to go from here. Morgan is 9. Michael will be 8 in just a couple of months. I have to go on for them. Joanie has a calendar in the kitchen, and her handwriting is on today’s date. She’d drawn a heart, and written the word “Home”. I don’t know when I’ll be able to flip this calendar. Maybe I never will.
I thank you for sharing your memories and condolences with us. I thank you for loving my Joan as much as I did, and I know that she would be the very first to ask you to respect the privacy of our children at this unimaginably difficult time.
Respectfully,
Hunter Helmsley
