Some weeks settle into the heart heavier than others, and these last few weeks have felt like that for our house. Wrestling has always been a part of our family rhythm - the shows we gather around, the storylines we follow, the wrestlers we cheer for like they're old friends. It's woven into our weekends, our conversations, our laughter. So when the wrestling world grieves, we feel it here too.
And I would be lying if I didn't admit that the last few weeks have been hard, to put it bluntly.
We lost The Butcher, Andy Williams - the powerhouse with the unmistakable look and the quiet grounded presence behind it. And then, almost unbelievably, we lost PAC, Benjamin Satterly - the man who seemed to defy gravity every time he stepped into the squared circle, the performer who wrestled with a kind of intensity that made you sit forward and pay attention.
Two losses. So close together. So unespected.
And the wrestling community - the wrestlers, the fans, the families - felt the shock rippple through every corner.
PAC wrestled the night before he passed. He gave everything he had in the ring, just like he always did. And then, less than a day later, he was gone. The Butcher's passing had already left so many reeling, and losing PAC right after felt like the kind of grief that knocks the wind out of you.
In our house, we talked about it the way families do - quietly, gently, with that mix of disbelief and sadness that comes when someone you've watched for years suddenly isn't there anymore. Wrestling isn't just entertainment for us. It's connection. It's tradition. It's the shared excitement of match nights and the comfort of familiar faces on the screen.
And when those faces disappear, it leaves a strange kind of emptiness.
We remember PAC's impossible leaps, his fierce presence, his discipline.
We remember The Butcher's grit, his music, his unmistakable energy.
We remember how both men brought something unique to AEW - something that made the wrestling world richer.
Loss is never easy, even if it's someone we've3 only known through a screen. it reminds us how fragile life really is and how quickly things can change. But more than that it represents how deeply we can feel connected to people we've never met. It reminds us that behind every character, every entrance theme, every storyline, there's a real person with a real life and real people who loved them.
Tonight, our house feels a little quieter. A little more reflective. A little more aware of how precious time is.
We're grateful for the joy PAC and The Butcher brought into our living room.
We're grateful for the memories, the matches, the moments.
and we're holding their families, friends, and fellow wrestlers in our hearts and prayers.
Two lights faded to black long before we were ready.
Two legacies that will be forever remembered.
And a wrestling community - including our little corner of it - grieving together.
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