Doctor said there will be about an 8 week recovery period after his surgery. Off to college in the fall, so he’ll be ready for wresting season.

Take a look at the video below of the event to see Coach Rose presenting Steven the award.

It was 2007 and Steve had to win his match in the Michigan State Wrestling finals in order for his team, Allegan, to win the state championship. Along with Marilyn and Russell, we witnessed that accomplishment. It was a moment that not only Steve will remember the rest of his life, but it is something that his Brother, Mother and I will always remember.

If you want to get an idea how much pressure was on Steve, check out the video of that match.

Steve has a creative writing class in high school, and he wrote about that moment. I will let him finish.

Having aggravating flash backs from past years, I recall myself coming back to the present in a familiar setting. Gripping, close and to the point that decides it all I anticipate my turn in a nervous, annoyed state. As my teammates fall to the red arrowheads by unexpected decisions offers the enemy a hope for glory. Once again my teammate has lost; my turn was next; to win it for the team, I had to win. I’m not new to this kind of pressure since I have been here before and failed before. I rush to Coach Rose for last words of advice and all I got was a slap on the ass and a distinct “Get it done”. Coach Rose wasn’t much of a talker in these times, but Coach Simaz had quite the choice of words for those who have failed before me. I would not let that happen to me.

I was focused and ready to take on the challenge. I knew I did not have just any opponent; I had a very experienced and determined kid and I was prepared for a battle to the end. “Why does it have to come down to me? It’s too much pressure”. Coach Simaz pulled me aside and asked “Why not you? You’re the one we want; you’re the one we can count on”. These words fueled me as I stepped out onto the mat with energy that could fill the stadium. Prepared for anything; the lights are now on me.

Looking out into the roaring crowd I capture the excitement in the building. Bending over to strap on my green bands I got ready for the memorable match. My pulse races as I get in my stance and shake the kids hand from across me. My adrenaline pumping faster and faster; I hear the scream of the whistle. Not really remembering what happened on those three swift periods, yet what happened moments before the end.

Gripping my opponent hard and ruthless, I push him towards the edge of the mat as I thought it was my best shot at the victory. Leading two to one I know I am confident in the win, but I can’t stop now; not when I’m so close to what I’ve been working so hard for. The last push, the last breath, the last second, the final whistle. Glancing at the clock thinking is it true? Can it be? Well yes it was true and yes it just happened.

Starring down at my opponent from above I await the acceptance of victory. I threw my hand out to shake the kids sweaty, limp hand as my other hand was raised in victory by the referee. I lift both fists into the air as I see a flurry of the good ole orange and black tears of joy. As I turned around to those defeated arrowheads I see the sad tears or sorrow.

After shaking the hands of the opposing leaders I jolted to the now excited and enlightened Coach Rose and jumped into those beaten arms that have waited more than a decade for another dream to become the reality. After my encounter with Coach Rose I now faced Simaz who has just been wiping off his tears of victory. He wrapped me up and slammed me against the wall saying, “You did it, you did it! I knew you had it in you, I knew it!” After releasing me from his King Kong grip I made my way through my animated teammates to the back wall where my worn out cloths rested.

Today will be remembered as the day of firsts; the first State Championship in fifteen years, the first time I ever saw Coach Simaz shed a tear, and no one can forget the biggest accomplishment of all, the first time that Coach Rose has ever smiled.

When you had your first stroke you were driving your truck in Michigan and called me to tell me you didn’t feel well, well after many questions, I told you to hang up and call 911, that you were having a stroke and you being you had many other choice words to tell me. It took Dave, Sue and I several hours to track you down to get you the help you needed.

Once you put your mind to it and seceded to do the work for rehab you made a remarkable comeback. To get back out on the road and do what you loved to do, But life dealt you another unfair hand in many more strokes. You tried your best to overcome it, but life had other ideas for you. Those last few stroke took more out of you than you were able to fight,

I was just glad that I was able to have you live with me to help you out at the time, and when the time was right to have you go back home with mom to keep working on getting better. We sure have been through a lot of ups and downs more downs than ups. I know you were very frustrated not being able to do what you wanted to do when you wanted to. You sure did not make life easy for anyone including yourself. I can not recall how many phone calls you called me just to give me your one liners” it is raining, it is snowing, don’t forget to get my coffee, Steve won, tell you mother I am hungry, my butt is sore….., I could go on and on.

Your stubborn attitude could have been used in the right way but instead you used it against yourself. So many times I left your house from taking care of you with 20 pounds chewed off my ass, and most of the time for no reason at all, just the fact that I could not please you. Mom and I tried so hard to help you but you would just cuss us out or tell us to quit your bitching. Yes I know that you and I had a very different and uneuique relationship, one that most would not understand. So many times I wanted to take a frying pan, baseball bat or duct tape to you. But I just had to turn the other cheek and just love you.

The best payback I had was when you and mom lost power for 3 days and I came over with my generator to give you power for the sump pump in the basement and freezer, and power for your electric lift chair which at the time you were stuck in lying down. Oh that was so fun to have control over whether you got up or not. You sure did have a ton of choice words for me when I was not fast enough to plug in your chair. You were so loud yelling at me that even your neighbors heard it. It is ironic that most of the time you just wanted to lay in your recliner, but boy when you could not get up, you wanted up right now.

I have called you Grumpy for a long time…so if the shoe or pillow in this case fits use it. Making that pillow was fitting to your personality. You would not listen to what anyone was telling you to help you get any better, not the Dr, nurses, therapy, aides, mom or us kids, It wasn’t until the last few weeks of you life that you finally decided to get up off your butt and do something, Well you did get up with you walker and made it out to the Jeep for a ride. I got to take you out for your coffee and cigar, Those last 2 weeks were great and I wish we had more time like that.

May you finally rest in peace dad. I love you and miss you.

Give Amanda a hug and kiss for me

But the thing you knew most about my father was his love for his family. For Dave, myself, Julie and Mark, he was very proud of each of us, he may not have said in so many words, but he was. He was always there when we needed him, in the good times and the bad. We could tell him anything and he would always listen, rarely criticize

As for all of his grandchildren, Jeremy, Amanda, Ryan, Emily, Randy, Andrew, Kelsie, Russell, Mitch, Steve, Erik, Grace, Jessica, and his great grandson, Dylan. I want you all to know how much you were loved by your grandfather. You are all the light of his life, his eyes would sparkle any time your names were mentioned. He was very proud of each of you, and loved to brag to all who would listen to each of your accomplishments, no matter how big or small. I want all of you to be proud that you had a grandfather who loved you so much. Please share your memories of him with your own children one day, they will know by the stories that you tell how very much he loved you.

My own memories of my father will be most precious to me, as I’m sure yours will be to you. But always know that Dad has very special memories of each one of us also that he will carry through out eternity.

And for my father, I want you to know that you will always be loved and dearly missed by you family.

And to the good Lord above, I want you to know that there are no warranties, no guarantees and no returns.

Many of you knew him based on the phase of life he was in. Some knew him with his broken body, many knew him as a hard working and honorable man, some knew him as the guy driving down the country road honking and waving at a stranger as if he knew them…and leaving the person behind waving at some guy for whom they had no clue who he was, but he left them smiling.

I knew him as dad. He expressed genuine love for his children. Now it may have came in the form of a thump on the head, pulling the hair on your leg or the infamous finger poke to the chest. I have no idea how my chest could nearly collapse and yet his finger stayed rigid and ready to strike should you act like it did not hurt. A second strike was rarely necessary as it really did hurt!

He was a good dad and a good grandfather. He pushed me personally to success. When I was a young boy he allowed me to help him lay floor covering. In retrospect, I believe that he was more interested in me keeping occupied moving heavy boxes tile around than letting me help. I am sure all I really did was get in the way. But with his encouragement, when the job was done, I was pretty sure that most of it was a result of me helping him.

Even as an adult, he pushed me along. Periodically he and his Dana truck would show up at one of the warehouses that I managed. When this happened I generally would have a befuddled security guard calling to say some big truck with a short fat guy (although he argued that his stomach was actually an overgrown muscle) was trying to run the gate. Dad measured his kid’s success differently than most. His definition of my success was based on the number of dock doors in the warehouse I was running. Oddly enough, that was usually one of he first things I look for even today. And of course while he was at my warehouse – - doing my job – - everyone there knew he was my dad, he was proud of #1 (me) and as his Dana truck rumbled out of the parking lot, he left all knowing they had a friend.

My mom was the love of his life. Their love was genuine and he deeply cared for her. He made a special effort each year to get her something special at Christmas. Even though every year they agreed not to buy for each other – and you could tell he was excited to see her open the gift and of course to argue a bit about it. They were all league all-stars when it came to a loving argument.

His grandchildren were his passion. He was incredibly proud of each one of them and would show pictures of them to everyone that dared get near him. He loved going to their sporting events and even late in life would plan weeks in advance to see them perform. Almost every conversation we had started with “how’s Kelsie”, where’s Ryan and “how’s that baby” clearly wanting to know how my 2 year old daughter was doing. They are doing great dad. And you know something really cool happened the day dad died, Grace the 2 year old who had never even uttered the word grandpa started saying Grandpa – now she says it all the time.

So now he is gone from us physically, but lasting memories are vivid for all he touched. His ready smile lives on inside his family, even if it did gross out an occasional grandchild when he did not have his teeth in The memories of John Poffenberger, John P, JP, Old Man, Puffy, Little Brown Jug, Johnny, John, Grandpa, Great Grandpa and Dad burn bright. He is missed, but he and his love live on inside each of us.

First up on Tuesday will be Dave’s. On Wednesday, I’ll be putting Sue’s up. And finally on Thursday, I’ll be posting Julie’s. If any family member reading this wants to write a letter to Dad (or Grandpa), please send them to me and I’ll be glad to put it on the site. Even if you are not a family member, but would like to have something posted regarding my Dad, please let me know and I’ll put it up. Or, you can just write something in the comments.

No, I’m not going crazy (although some would have a different opinion on that one). As my Dad’s health was in decline, he had told my Mom that he did not want any funeral, the he wanted to be cremated and have his ashes thrown out. But before doing away with his ashes, he wanted to ride around in his truck. Since I’m the one who has his truck, I was more then happy to fulfill that wish.

There were very few wishes my Dad was granted in those last days, but this is one that I am happy to say was easy to do. Now my Dad is situated comfortable right behind the passenger seat in the truck.

If you see a Big Red Truck driving down the road, give a honk as it goes by. You never know who is riding shotgun.

Updated Aug 6 : Dad’s memorial service will be held at on Saturday August 23, 3pm to whenever at North Christian Church, 5201 Camden Drive Fort Wayne, IN 46825. You can read Dad’s obituary here.

I spent the last week of his life with him in Hospice at Parkview Memorial Hospital in Fort Wayne, Ind. When I went to see him on the Friday before his passing, he was not expected to live 24 hours. I made him a promise that I would not leave. Didn’t expect it would be a week. Well, he fooled everyone. He always did things his way, and he did so now.

We were told by the nurses and pastors at Hospice that the dying are waiting for something to occur. Whether that be a loved one to arrive, or for someone to say something special. We never will know what Dad was waiting for that week he was in Hospice. I suspect that he was not really waiting for anyone in particular, or for anything to be said. I think he was enjoying the family coming together like it was and did not want any of that to end.

I was able to have long conversations with my brother, Dave, who lives out in L.A. Dave is 7 years older them me, and we never really talked that much when I was younger, and more so as we both got older. Not because we didn’t want to, we were just never afforded the time to. My sister and Mom finally were talking to each other after over a year of silence. And I was able to reconnect with my daughter, Jessica, and have wonderful talks with her that will always hold special meaning in my heart. I found out how my Mom and Dad met. On a dare. And why she stayed with him. Because of his car, a 1956 Chevy Bel Air.

I don’t share any entry I have in my journal, but this time I feel is a good time to share one. This is the entry from Friday, August 1. I wrote it about an hour after my Dad’s passing:

Dad died today. May he find peace. It was 2:42. I was able to give him one last hug. I left a cigar with him. Now he can have one last smoke without Mom bitching. I will always love you Dad.

If anyone knows my Mom and Dad, you will understand about him smoking cigars. Always had to hide them from her. Most of the time it was in his tool box, before she found where they were and threw them away. I contributed to his delinquency when I came down to from Michigan to give him a ride in the truck. We would stop at the BP station and we would both get a coffee and a cigar. Then drive around, with no particular destination in mind. Smoking cigars, drinking coffee, and talking.

If I can take anything away from the last week that I spent with him it is this: You may think that you don’t have time to do the important things in life, but you really do. That time you spend in front of a TV, or on the internet, you could be spending it with someone you love. Talking may not be the most in thing to do these days, but it is the most cherished time you will have with someone, and it will always be something you will remember. I may not remember the TV shows I watch, or the movies. Won’t remember the web pages I have read. What I will remember will be those times I went and took my Dad out for a ride in his Red truck. I’ll always be able to watch that movie that I missed sometime again, but I will never be able to take Dad out for a ride again.

My conversations with my Dad were often very short in those last years of his life. Mostly he would call and ask about the weather. It’s cold Dad, I would say. And he would say “It’s cold here”. Or he would call and ask how Steve was doing at the wrestling meet. “He won, Dad”. “O Boy”, he would say. And something that I did not know until last week was that when I got of the phone with him, he would begin calling. He would call my sister (“He won, gotta go”). He would call my Brother out in California, evidently waking them up at 5:30 in the morning at one point, He would call my other sister. He would call his next door neighbor.

Dad, I would just like to say that I kept my promise.

I hope so, considering you are at wrestling camp today. And let’s see… It’s going to be in the mid 80′s and the gym is not air conditioned? I say that’s a good place to spend your birthday.

We all love you.

Happy 17′th Birthday, Steve.