Ted DiBiase by Terry Funk, Ted DiBiase, Jim J.R. Ross Page B

exactly what Dad told us after his mother died: “Teddy, Dad’s at peace. He’s looking down on us right now. He’s fine.” It was the worst night of my life.
    JOHN DIBIASE:
    The night my father died, they came to the door, and Teddy answered. They asked for Mom. She started crying. I knew something was wrong. Then they spoke to Teddy. Then I was told—I was the last one to know. But I sensed something was wrong, and if I remember it right, Teddy may have been the one to tell me that Dad had died. I was only eight years old.
    That Saturday, July 5, the funeral services were held in Amarillo. The local funeral home was packed with family and friends. My brother Michael got leave from the army and was there with his wife. My dad had touched so many people, and I was shaken by seeing him in a casket. I had to be pulled away when they closed the lid. Dad’s body was later shipped to Willcox, where he was buried.
    Under Texas law, an autopsy is required. It was discovered that Dad had a heart attack. He had arterial sclerosis—a hardening or thickening of the walls of the arteries—and one artery was completely blocked. Scar tissue was found around his heart, showing he had had earlier heart attacks.
    With Dad’s untimely death, Mom had no choice but to move the familyback to Willcox. Our budget was limited. Some of Dad’s wrestling friends and family helped us out as best they could, as there was no way we could live on our own. So, with the help of some family and friends, we packed all our belongings and headed back to Grandma’s house.
    The next few months after Dad’s death were a time of grief for me and my family. My mother, who had been drinking prior to Dad’s death, had now become dependent on alcohol. She was devastated and wouldn’t even leave the house. She didn’t have a job, so she had nothing but time on her hands.
    It was getting out of control. All she would do was lie around the house, drinking and smoking. Eventually, she developed emphysema and had to have her gall bladder removed. At the time, my grandmother had to raise John and me, and was doing all she could to pull my mother out of her depression. But nothing seemed to work.
    One day, out of desperation, my grandmother made a phone call to the one and only person she thought could help: my biological father, Ted Wills. “Ted, Helen is in really bad shape. Nothing seems to help. I think you should come out here and visit with her. Maybe if she saw you, she might feel better.”
    â€œIs that a good idea? Are you sure she wants to see me?”
    Grandma added, “Ted, your son needs a dad.” She was worried about me.
    A few weeks later, Ted returned to Willcox. His goal was to help lift my mother from her depression and reestablish a relationship with me. He accomplished the former but failed at the latter. Besides some sporadic weekend visits, cards, and a present every birthday and Christmas, I had very little interaction with Ted.
    As for my mother, she was flattered that Ted had come back to help her, and she responded well to him. We were all happy when Mom would go out to eat with Ted or go for a walk. He was the best medicine for her. She was very lonely and she needed companionship and someone to take care of her. I think Ted came back because he always cared about me and my mom. A few months later, Ted and Mom remarried.
    As for Ted and me, I must say, I was curious to see him again. We were very cordial to each other. I was very happy that he had expressed such concern for Mom. Here’s the thing: as I got to know him, I thought he was a goodman and a nice guy. But I really didn’t consider him my father. Mike DiBiase was my father, and nobody could ever take Mike’s place.
    After Mom and Ted remarried, they moved to Ted’s place in Los Angeles with John. Ted had a good job with the television networks as a lighting technician. He worked the lighting on