Born September 17, 1963 in Jackson, Michigan
Departed January 7, 2024 in Orlando, Florida
Scott was a loving husband, father, grandpa, brother and uncle. He lived most of his life in Scottsdale, Arizona and raised a blended family of four children. The family moved to the east coast of Florida, because he always said, “I am a beach bum stuck in the middle of the desert.”
He loved fishing and traveling in the RV. He spent his last Christmas with his family which he so much enjoyed. He said he just missed his step daughter who lives in Arizona.
Scott left us way too soon and will be deeply missed by all of us.
My Uncle had a great sense of humor and there was never a dull moment with him. He would make some of the silliest jokes that forced me to laugh or smile. Uncle scott, being your niece is one of the greatest things. You always had something new to tell me, I learned so much from you. I love spending time with you, Aunt Susan, and the rest of our family. Being a Johnson is so extremely special to me. It’ll never be the same without you, I love you so much and I’m so grateful for the time we spent together. You will always be an award winning uncle. I miss you so much.
-Liz, or as you would say “the peanut gallery”
Scott, my bother my friend my buddy,
I have written this letter to you a thousand times since you passed away, and I can hardly make it past this point without crying for myself. I keep writing and erasing page after page. Well tonight I’m ready to put my thoughts into words for you.
I know I’m supposed to tell everyone who looks on your memorial page about how I felt about you, how I looked up to you, how we spend countless hours in the desert catching lizards and snakes. I suppose to tell everyone how you meant the world to me. I’m supposed to tell everyone how I would call you and just listen to your voice, seeing you smile in my mind while you told me your stories of the next chapter in your life.
I’m supposed to tell everyone about our younger days bird hunting with Dad, Gary and most of the neighbourhood kids. Or should I be telling them how our dad was always looking for the next great sales items like painted Ostrich Eggs, or the paint bucket lid/spout? Or when Dad had this great plan to take a small camping trailer and convert it into a mobile kitchen and serve hotdogs and hamburgers at the Winter National Fuel Drag Races.
I’m supposed to tell everyone how many bars we were in following Gary around as he played his band gig. I don’t remember too many that had more than you and I and our dates in the audience. But we gave it hell clapping for his rendition of Hank Snow’s famous song.
I’m supposed to tell everyone how so strong and secure you were taking on our great uncles’ estate in Seattle and you took me under your wing, as we walked through the paperwork making decisions that would cement our great uncle’s life. You were phlegmatic throughout that time. I’m supposed to tell everyone about you introducing me to Gelato in the little wharf town of Bainbridge Island.
Scott my brother my friend my buddy. Your untimely passing has left a huge hole in so many lives. How can we ever repay you for the times, the moments, the laughs, and the tears we all had with you? I’m sorry we never got out shrimping on your boat or traveling together after you and I retired. After watching you be so stoic during your last six months of life, you showed no pain, no hurt, no pity for yourself while you were in such uncertainty. I don’t know how you did it, but your kept us all cheering you on, day after day, week after week, and then you had the most wonderful Christmas with your kids, and you loved on them with such passion.
Take care of Mom, Dad and Gary up in heaven. I never thought I would outlive you. I always thought we’d grow old having fun, cracking jokes, reminiscing about Monty Python, making fun of life until I passed.
I love you Scott. I told you that every time we spoke and I’m telling you tonight, I love you Scott!
In loving memory of Uncle Scott, a devoted fisherman and a cherished jokester. His laughter and fishing tales will forever echo in our hearts, casting a lasting legacy of joy and shared moments. Rest peacefully, Uncle Scott, you'll be missed dearly.