Speaking through his official Facebook account, WWE Hall of Famer Mick Foley commented on the passing of Reid Flair who passed away yesterday aged just 25.


I was once asked for guidance, or some type of wisdom by the mother of a child who had just lost her daughter after a long battle with cancer. At times like these, there are simply no words that can suffice. Well meaning people who talk about the deaths of those so young often do little to comfort – and sometimes serve to anger those who have just been through the most traumatic experience imaginable.

Without knowing what to say, I turned for guidance to the mother of a child who had lost a child through similar circumstances – the mother of the young man, Marcos, who I wrote about in one of my books. “Does it ever get better”, I asked her, wondering what I might be able to tell this woman who had just lost her precious child.

“No”, Marcos’s mother told me. “It never gets better. Not a day goes by when I don’t feel the pain of losing my boy. You just learn to live with the pain.”

Like so many in the wrestling world, my heart goes out to the family and friends of Reid Fliehr, who left this world way too young, at the age of 25. As a father of four children of my own, I can only imagine the grief that his family feels. I didn’t know Reid all that well. But I remember watching him play while I was at his father’s house in 1991 – all of 3 years old, taking on all the challenges that a swing-set had to offer. I remember seeing him every couple of years after that, watching him grow from a toddler into a boy, and then into a handsome young man with a world of potential.

What I remember mostly, though, was sitting next to his father, Ric Flair, on an airplane, getting ready to take off from the Philippines to Los Angelas – a flight in the neighborhood of 16 hours. I was a little nervous about sitting next to the legendary Nature Boy for such an extended duration; after all, it was widely known that we didn’t see eye to eye on too many things. But I listened to Ric, as one by one, child by child, he placed telephone calls to each of his children – just to tell them he loved them. I asked Ric about the calls during the course of the flight, mentioning how touching I found them to be.

“I do that every day”, Ric said. “Just because you never know.” Reid is gone, leaving behind a world of “whys” and “what ifs”. But unlike so many who leave this world far too son, he left knowing he was loved. For Reid’s family, the pain may never get better. Over time, I hope, and pray, they learn to live with it. But I hope that knowing that their son was loved, and knowing that Reid knew it, will be a source of small comfort in the trying times ahead. God bless you, Reid Fliehr. May you rest in peace.