Note: In honor of Eddie Guerrero. Not to spite Chavo, but just to make us think a little about the late Eddie Guerrero and look at Chavo now.

Uncle Eddy, I sit here now, in the house you bought me for my WWF break- in, and I can't believe you're really gone.

I am saddened, yet I shed no tears for you.

I'm so sorry and I can't believe that the last time I spoke to you, about five years ago, it was of jealously and resentment.

Yes, I admit, I was jealous.

After all of the selfless things you have done for me, I repay you with a chair shot to the head yelling with you. How stupid I was. When you're a rookie teaming with a veteran, how can you possibly expect to have the fans cheer for you when they barely even know your name?

Sigh What I guess I'm trying to say is that after a lot of careful thought, it was my fault.

I'm the one who insisted on us teaming together. You foresaw what was to happen, but I insisted, despite you saying no. How I finally got you?

Threats. Yes, threats.

You had finally overcome your alcoholic and pain killer issues and I was going to tell the Fed that you were on them again. I remember the shock in your eyes when I gave you my offer. The absolute hurt in your eyes.

But I didn't care; I never cared about your feelings.

A few days later, you called me, stating meekly that I won. I remember not even trying to hide the triumph in my voice as I smugly told you that I was glad you saw it my way.

You were so peaceful, Uncle Eddie. You never argued with me, never got mad. Only gave me encouragement and praises. It was I who assumed the negative roles.

As kids, I always wanted to wrestle. As much as you protested, I eventually won. As usual. Then –I'm so ashamed to admit this- I'd start to cry. Purposely. Uncle Eddie, I'm so sorry. I don't know what was going through my devious little mind. Maybe it was seeing you protest to Dad (your brother). Maybe it was you getting what I thought you deserved when he spanked you. I don't know where all this spite against you came from. I just know that soon Abuelito would scream at Dad for hitting you.

Maybe that's why I hated you.

Because I knew Abuelito loved you more than Dad. Whatever the case, Abuelito disowned us and we were forced to move away. I only heard bitter ramblings about you. Whenever you were mentioned, there was a lot of swearing. I remember not even seeing you for a decade.

And then came that fateful day the Guerreros were united.

We stared at each other in pure disbelief in that squared ring. Finally a joyous look came over your face as you embraced me. I guess you didn't realize all of the hate on mine.

Sometimes I think that I'm the reason you got hooked on pain killers. With me, you were usually stressed out and once, I saw you cutting. Of course you didn't see me. I remember it perfectly.

I was walking down the hotel to your room because you didn't respond to the wake- up call. I opened the door quietly and looked in the bathroom. It was opened just a little. I saw tears roll down your face as you dragged the knife across your wrist. You breathed hard while the knife was up, held your breath while it was down. Hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot, skin very pale, I guess from the blood loss. And I remember what you were whispering to yourself, as you sat on the bathroom floor, doing this, at the time to me, joyous thing.

"Why, El Dios? Why does he do these horrible things to me?"

I'm guessing you were talking about me. Nevertheless, you weren't exactly on my list of favorite people, but I decided to send Chyna- you know, Mamacita- in.

Sure, you got help. Sure, you were once again, the center of attention, but that didn't do wonders for me.

Uncle Eddie, I'm sorry. I should've helped you. I can't even say I didn't know because I did.

I just didn't care…

You didn't like the hurtful emotions. Sorrow seemed to hit you harder than any one else. The other superstars helped you. I didn't care.

I hurt now at my selfishness. I should have been there for you. You almost lost your life because of me.

Now they want me to deliver the eulogy.

I guess I deserve it.

But, Uncle Eddie, I'm not going to hurt you any further. I know it's a little late, but I want to make you proud.

So, I'm giving up this stupid Caucasian- wannabe gimmick and going back to the traditional "Lie, Cheat, and Steal" Guerrero. After all, we all know that if the WWE superstars keep giving up their original gimmicks for these new stupid ones, WWE is going downhill.

That's what you said, right?

Well, maybe that's why I'm not crying, Uncle Eddie. Because I know you hate to see people crying and because…

You wouldn't want anyone stopping their lives for just one person's death.

So, I'll live on, Uncle Eddie, but only in the memory of you.