For the second time in the last six months, my childhood friend Carey lost another parent. His father Bernie passed away last week. Though he was 85, he was sharp as a tack right up until the end.

I remember summers when I was in high school our families used to take day trips out to a little known lake in northern Wisconsin. The typical outing would be swimming or using an inflatable raft, Frisbee, a picnic lunch, and a big dinner of grilled meat (no vegans in this bunch). Sometimes the kids would play touch football against the adults. Only touch actually meant tackle depending on the play.

The adults used to complain a bit over how sore they were the next day, which us kids used to laugh off. Not as funny now, since there have been days where I have to get out of bed in stages (like Terry Funk in the wrestling documentary Beyond The Mat) after doing something strenuous the previous day.

Even up until the last time I saw him, Bernie would still ask about the pro wrestling. He seemed to get a big kick out of it. He and his wife were living out of town by the time I started it, so he never got a chance to see me do it. It never occurred to me to send him a recording of any of my matches until now. Like a lot of things you should do, you don’t think about them until later.

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure they’ve got DVD players in heaven. Maybe not progressive scan, but for lower-quality VHS transfers that’s overkill anyway.

We’ll miss you Bernie.