Help with final expenses for Jason Ciszewski

Hi, my names Mike, ogre(Jason) was one of my brothers. He always was the first on to help us, so now I think it’s time we pay him back. Below is a eulogy my wife Kelly wrote perfectly describes Jason.

It’s not something you think is going to happen 30

minutes after you talk to someone. 30 minutes after you both have your notebook out and jotting down figuring out what breweries you’re going to in the coming weekend. 30 minutes after you say your usual good byes, which was always “bye bitch”. 30 minutes changed countless lives.

People always talk about random dudes saying that oh this guy was the best guys ever, blah blah.

BULLSHIT

However, if you knew Jason “Ogre” Ciszewski then you truly knew he was absolutely the real one, a one in a billion. A son, husband, godfather, uncle, brother, friend, co-worker, mentor, asshole.

No one was like Ogre. Not a single person compares to him. There was no one who disliked him (except me). He was everyone’s best friend even if you met 5 seconds before. We always called him Mr. Mayor because you couldn’t go anywhere without him running into someone and be talking to them for an hour.

He would, and has, helped literally anyone with anything no matter what time or where he was or what he was doing. Usually wearing one of the same three shirts he wore.

Ogre was not only my best friend, he was my other husband, my brother, my drinking buddy, my best man, our roommate, my bitch, my protector from getting my scalp ripped off under a bridge, my mule when it was too much water to walk in and he would throw me over his shoulder, my husband’s one true love, a seaman, captain asshole, four wheeling trip planner, flea market taco getter, skipper, the fuking guy with the tornado siren ring tone, straw boss, and so so many other roles he played.

The passion he had for the things he loved to do always shined through. His love of Halloween and giving back to his parish always drove him to work hard in the Haunted House at St. Pascal’s. He really cared about doing it for the people in his community. Ogre even helped to create the Catacombs community of incredible people.

There was not a child around that didn’t adore their “Uncle Ogurt” and he adored them. They would hang on him, jump on him and he would always play with them, color with them and he loved every moment. He enjoyed teaching them how to ride bikes, shoot water guns, or how to drive a boat.

I only had the honor of having him in my life for 8 years and it’s extremely painful but it feels like a lifetime. I can’t imagine how Michelle, his family, and lifelong friends are feeling.

I hope he is somewhere where every day is Naturday and there is plenty of booze, big titties, everything ’Merica, boats and hoes, country music, dogs, broken Jesus sandals, bald eagles and carburetors.

Ogre, maybe you were ready to go, but I am positive I speak for all who love you that, we definitely weren’t ready to let you go. Honestly, that was a dick move. This world will not shine as bright without you in it. I hope you knew how absolutely loved, appreciated and cherished you were and always will be by the people who loved you.

I don’t think I’ll ever get through the pain of losing you but I know you would want allllll of us to “stop being a pussy!” and move on and keep on partying.

I love you so much and I’ll miss you every single day. Life won’t be the same but we will keep going because you’ll haunt our asses if we don’t.

RIP, brother.