Obituary of Jason Gabriel Allen

Jason Gabriel Allen

07/17/1978 – 03/19/2023

44 years, 8 months, 3 days

The Jason I knew was most importantly a proud father. He spoke of his children with great zeal. His happiest moments were when he recalled speaking to them all in the same week! He glowed when he heard of their accomplishments and he loved speaking about how far they were going to go in life. Breanna Nicole (23), Trinity Alexis (21), Gage Evan (18), and Jeana Kathleen (11)—know how proud your dad was of you. You were all he talked about when we spoke. He would joke and tell me that his happiest days were when you were born, but then he would correct himself and say "No, my happiest day is today because I got to talk to them." He loved you all more than he could ever say.

The Jason I knew gave nicknames to those he loved. He sometimes called me "baby girl" but most often “sis.” He called our dad “Pops”. His daughters were “baby girl” too. He was proud of the man his son was becoming and was proud to have passed on the Allen name to such a strong and bright young man.

When our father died, Jason did his best to fill his shoes. He took over the business, lived in the house, and even tried to drink the same scotch. Our father's shoes were tough to fill, and Jason did his best. Jason was proud to be our father's son, always talking about how he and I "were raised the same way by the same man". We knew what that meant to each other; we knew what that meant to our dad.

The Jason I knew was also a proud veteran. He was proud to have defended his country. I can remember him telling us he got the nickname "Pretty Boy". I can remember him telling stories about trying to be a bad@$$ in bootcamp and then getting his @$$ handed right back to him by the sergeant. I can remember push-up competitions with our dad in the living room (Jason always won) and slap-boxing matches with the family in the front yard while us children watched from the roof (our cousin Nesie always won those). I imagine there's not much slap-boxing in heaven, but I'm sure Nesie, Pops, and Jason are all happy to be reunited nonetheless. Just like the confederate flag our dad flew out in the front yard, Jason did the same. He even had a tattoo of it on his arm with “Gabriel” in front of it. Jason was proud of his roots, proud of his family, proud of his country.

The Jason I knew was also one of the most mechanically brilliant men I’ve ever known. Just like our dad, Jason could look at something mechanical and say "Yea, I think I can fix that" even though he’d never seen it before. Jason loved to fix things for people. He loved a mechanical challenge, and he was dang good at figuring them out. It's no wonder he was a tanker and then a helicopter mechanic in the military.

Jason and I weren't closing growing up, but I know he and our other brother Casper got along well. They were close in age and technically stepbrothers, but I don't remember any of that "step-" talk in our house. They were brothers, through and through. They caused much mischief together, including teaching their baby sister all the words to Red Hot Chili Peppers "Under the Bridge" when she was 4 years old. They also used to take me riding in my little red wagon, though they'd purposefully hit the potholes in the backyard to try to bounce me out. I'd give anything to have Jason pull me around in a red wagon again, though we might need a somewhat larger one now.

The Jason I knew also loved some good music. RHCP, some great classic 90s country, even some good rock n' roll. If Jason were here, he'd say we were "raised right" on the great classics like Jim Morrison, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton, Traffic, and Crosby, Stills, & Nash. Jason and I both loved to ride around with the windows down, music blasting. There's something about that Johns Island wind that just makes the music sound better. Some of our favorite drives were out to Wadmalaw. Jason loved to take a long drive and sit out on the dock, just enjoying the weather and being present in the moment.

The Jason I knew loved spicy food, especially Korean food. When he got back from serving in Korea, he always raved about a tiny gas-station Korean restaurant in West Ashley. He loved the kimchi and bulgogi and anything you could add spice to. I hear he even had a hot wing eating competition with his mom at one point. Jason was the type of man who would eat something spicy or drink something crazy just because you dared him to. And he'd never give in to the heat or discomfort. He somehow always held it together. He was stubborn and persistent but that was what made him who he was. It was his classic “eff you, that’s why” kind of attitude.

He and dad used to go to Chinese buffets and I swear those places would lose money on Jason. Growing up, the Jason I knew could put away more calories than seemed humanly possible. The one exception was our brother Casper, who somehow, though skinnier, always seemed to have a bigger appetite. It was never a competition between them, always just a mutual understanding. Jason was also the one who taught me to mix my food together on my plate because it “tasted better”. My mom would cook a nice breakfast of scrambled eggs, grits, bacon, and toast. We’d all sit down to eat and Jason would take his spoon and stir it all together on his plate before chowing down. He could also eat a large pancake in four bites-- a feat I have yet to accomplish.

The Jason I knew had the most infectious laugh. If he agreed with you, he'd point his fingers at you and say "touché" and then smirk a little. If he disagreed with you, you’d know it pretty quickly. If I ever caught him off guard with joke or a one-liner, he'd cover his mouth, lean back in his chair with his leg up as if he was actually off balance, and say "damn, Sis!". Then he'd chuckle and look at me like he was so proud.

The Jason I knew loved his South Carolina Gamecocks and his Raiders. He also loved Dale Earnhardt Junior (#8). I swear he should have been a NASCAR driver with how fast he drove. When he decided he liked something, he was all-in. You never had to guess if Jason liked you, your team, or not. He was quick to tell you. He and I agreed on at least one thing—any team but Clemson.

The Jason I knew protected his baby sister like none other. He almost always responded to me with "ma'am" and somehow his friends all did the same, even though I was younger. I never minded. I felt a great sense of pride being Jason's baby sister. I still do.

The Jason I knew was a man who deserves to be honored, loved, and remembered well by all of us. Whatever his "faults", just remember we all have them. I am proud he and I shared so much together. I like to think I knew him well and I hope and pray this obituary proves that.

Rest in peace, brother. I love you.

Your baby sister

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