Mick Foley announces the death of his mother: “I will always be proud to be Mrs. Foley’s Baby Boy”

it is with a heavy heart I share the news of my mother’s passing, following a long battle with dementia. My mother was an intensely private person – so much so that I pleaded with WWE not to show her in the crowd at a 1997 MSG show – and I have struggled in trying to decide whether I should make her passing public. Her will specified there would be no visitation, no funeral; not even an obituary – but in the end, we as a family felt it would be good for all of us if there was a tribute of some kind to a remarkable woman. Also, knowing I am far from alone in being a child of a parent stricken with such a devastating illness, I am hoping that by writing this tribute, other families in the same situation will know they are not alone; that others out there can feel their pain.

My mother was born on a farm in a small town in Western New York in 1938. On the heels of The Great Depression, times were tough, and the food on her family’s table was either raised or grown on the farm, or procured by rifle. Out of necessity, a dollar had to be stretched as far as it could possibly go, and she carried the financial lessons she’d learned on that farm with her throughout her life. In my high school years, I would see my best friends practically shivering in their winter coats when they came to my house, and it took me years to realize that not many families kept the thermostat at 56° in the winter or went without air conditioning – either in the home or in the car – in those scorching summers of my past.

I grew up in a 64 square-foot room in a 1200 square-foot home with one small bathroom for the entire family. I believe I was 12 years old when an extension was added onto my room turning my 8‘ x 8‘ room into a 10‘ x 8‘ room – a whopping addition of 16 square feet. My brother John and I fondly recall the audible gasps my mother would make when seeing the bill from the restaurant…any restaurant. She simply knew what it was like to grow up poor, and did not see any need to pay out any more than was absolutely necessary. So if you’re wondering where the legendary Foley thriftiness came from, it was from my mom – and those lessons learned have served me well over the years!

My brother and I thought we had it made, though. We had close friends in the neighborhood, our own neighborhood wiffleball team (the Parsonage Yankees) and a delicious, home-cooked meal on the table every night. While there is not a drop of Italian blood in the Foley ancestry, I have never tasted spaghetti and meatballs or lasagna that could touch my mom‘s. Her Yorkshire pudding (a Christmas Day tradition) was the Bret Hart of Yorkshire puddings; the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever will be!

Until a couple years ago, my mother had never once mentioned that she had been stricken with polio as a child. Had my father not told me, I never would have known. Then one day, shortly before my mother went into assisted living due to the progression of her disease, she brought out a small keepsake box with some yellowed newspaper clippings, and it was in one of those clippings I read of her months long battle with the dreaded disease. I may have done some impressive things in my career, but my mother stomped a mud hole in polio’s @ss and walked it dry, and grew into a strong, independent woman who became the first member of her family to attend college. Her quest for a college education was met with much resistance from her father, who simply did not see the need for a woman to have a college education. Their relationship remained distant up until my grandfather‘s death of dementia in the early 1990s. But my mother persevered, got that college education she valued so greatly – graduating near the top of her class – and landed a job as a physical education teacher in the small Long Island town of Setauket, New York. It was there she met my father and gave up her own ambitions to become a full-time mother to me and my brother John, encouraging us to chase dreams of our own. When I was 15, my mother went back to work for twenty plus years – always making sure my brother and I had a home cooked breakfast before she began her workday.

Her thirst for knowledge never ended. In time she earned two different masters degrees, and was like a walking encyclopedia. Night after night, I would look on in amazement as my mother watched “Jeopardy” – answering question after question, usually faring far better than the actual contestants. I never once heard her say “I don’t know” in regard to one of my questions, whereas I say those three words to my children almost every single day. Up until just a few years ago, when the disease had really taken its toll, she was still polishing off two good sized novels a week. She loved reading to me and my brother, sparked my imagination and nurtured my own love for reading and writing. Although I did not realize it until years later, when I sat down with my notebooks to write “Have a Nice Day”, I was not doing it all on my own; my mother’s love was guiding me – all those years of encouragement allowing me to believe I had the necessary tools to write my very own book. Following the book’s release, my mother carried it with her everywhere – and that 570-page behemoth wasn’t light by any means. Chris Jericho even used the hefty tome to score a questionable victory over me in St. Louis in 1999. I do believe her proudest moment as my mother was seeing my name on the cover of a book I had written. There’s no way I could have done it without her.

My mother first entered the pro-wrestling lexicon in April, 1997, after a sitdown interview with Jim Ross where I talked about my reaction to my first experience in the bizarre subculture of Japanese “Death Match” wrestling by saying, “Mrs. Foley’s Baby Boy is finally home!” Had JR not taken an interest in that phrase, the mention probably would have been one and done. Instead, Jim really sank his teeth into the moniker, and through his words, my mom became part of my character. With the exception of The Rock’s mother Atta (and perhaps Shelton Benjamin’s) I can think of no other mother who has been so closely associated with a child’s pro wrestling journey. I guess Buff Bagwell would have reason to disagree but my mother’s intense privacy cost any possibility there would ever be a “Mrs. Foley on a Pole” match.

The phrase “Be kind: you never know what struggle someone is going through” took on a great deal of added meaning following my mother‘s dementia diagnosis. To see such a brilliant, strong woman slipping away so rapidly was the most difficult thing I’ve ever been through. The decision to put her into assisted-living was heartbreaking, but by that point, she was no longer capable of taking care of herself, and had taken to wandering off with increasingly greater regularity. After catching her about to wander off into the night at 3 AM in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, I sadly realized that the trip we planned to see the “Radio Christmas Spectacular” and the play “Chicago” on Broadway would not come to pass. Wandering off in the small town of Setauket was one thing. I knew if she wandered off into the night in New York City, we might never see her again. I remember the helplessness in her eyes when my brother and I asked her if she knew our names, and she came up with wrong names for both of us. Sadly, she needed to leave the home she’d lived in for 60 years – a devastating blow to the entire family.

Sometimes, when faced with the type of dark cloud a dementia diagnosis brings, you need to look for the slightest hint of a silver lining. For me, that silver lining was knowing that even as the disease progressed rapidly – even as we knew there was no chance of a happy ending to her life story – for a short window of time, there was something of a childlike wonder in her eyes, especially when she would watch certain movies, or “Outlander” on Starz – her favorite television series of all time. Her dedication to the show became well-known among some of the cast – so much so that when I met “Outlander” star Sam Heughan at New York Comic Con, his first words to me were, “How’s your mum?” Though my first book represented the accomplishment my mother was most proud of, a close second had to go to my role in “Star Force II”, one of those shoestring budget pandemic movies, where actors would record their dialogue on their smart phone and send them in, at which point the clips would be edited in wild and wonderful ways. For my mother, seeing her baby boy in the do-it-yourself movie starring both “Outlander” leads Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe (not to mention James McAvoy) was a crowning achievement for her as a very proud parent. I ordered four different Cameo videos for her from the cast of “Outlander”, and hearing those stars she admired so much talking about her own son would cause her to beam with pride. Since her passing, I’ve been binging her beloved show, and feel her presence with me as I watch the tight-knit Fraser clan navigate an uncertain future in colonial America.

Just two weeks before her passing, my children and I all had the chance to say our final goodbyes. We took turns holding her hand, telling her how much we loved her, and what a special part of our lives she was. She only spoke a few words that day, but her eyes were open, she was alert, and I’d like to believe she heard every loving word we spoke that day. I returned to visit her just two weeks later, and the light was gone. There was no sign of recognition. I held her hand, told her I loved her and that it was OK to let go. A few days later, she was gone.

I hope and pray one day this terrible disease will be vanquished, and one day, no one will have to go through the same experience my family did. Until that day, I encourage all of you to appreciate the little things, tell your loved ones they are loved, and never take a single precious moment for granted. I owe a debt of gratitude to my brother John and his son Jake for their constant presence in her life during such a difficult period of time.

Goodbye Mom. I love you very much and will always be proud to be Mrs. Foley’s Baby Boy.”