Contributions to the tribute of Scott Dreyer Cussimano

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Friday, June 6, 2025

I used to run a Facebook group where Scott was casually dreaming up a project — you know, tossing out ideas like spaghetti at a wall. He kept asking questions, and I kept answering them one by one like some sort of WordPress oracle. Then suddenly, he drops this: “Can you just do it for me?” Challenge accepted. That weekend, I locked myself in and built everything he asked for. Monday rolls in, Scott checks it out and blurts: “HOW did you do that?! I’ve been trying to figure this out for nine months!” Yep. Nine. Like a digital pregnancy. Except this baby was still stuck in beta. Next thing I know, I’m hired. We worked together for almost a year — no meetings, no calls, not even a Zoom wave. I didn’t know his voice. He didn’t know mine. All we had were profile pictures and a wall of messages. It was the most productive ghost relationship ever. Then he invites me on a business trip. To Spain. Sure, why not? Except… we had never even spoken. No calls. No video. Nada. That’s when I dropped the line of the trip: “This is the weirdest blind date I’ve ever had.” And it really was — but also kind of magical. Scott didn’t just hire me. He trusted me. Fully. No micromanaging, no endless check-ins, no ‘circle-back’ nonsense. He let me build. That kind of trust? Rare. That kind of boss? Rarer. After Spain, we set ourselves a mission: build tools so good the company could run on them alone. Just us. Just our work. We were so close. Our last chat was on April 25th. On April 26th, he reacted to a message with an emoji. Then silence. A few days later, I messaged him: “All good?” No reply. Debbie hadn’t heard from him either. Then, two days later, she messaged me — someone had posted on his Facebook wall saying Scott had passed away. No. That had to be a mistake. I messaged around. Reached out to Erik. What he told me hit like a collapsing ceiling — I couldn’t breathe. Even now, part of me is still waiting for a “LOL just went off-grid for a bit.” But that message never came. I still have things I wanted to show him — small wins, finished features — stuff I built hoping for a “Nice job” or even just a thumbs up. Like a little brother proudly holding up a drawing for his older sibling. I’m crushed he didn’t get to see how everything we dreamed up finally came together. But I promise: I’ll keep his vision alive. I owe him that. We all do. Rest easy, Scott. You were more than a leader. You were the spark.

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Robert posted a symbolic gesture

Sunday, June 1, 2025

My dear family, holidays were special because You came from CT to NY to celebrate with us! What a great loss! Will always remember Scott's winning smile and his zest for life. He was a fine compassion person. I am honored to call him family!! Sending love and prayers always! Robert, Linda & Gianna

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Andrew Marchand posted a condolence

Sunday, June 1, 2025

There is nothing like your first best friend in elementary school. Scott was mine. Scott lived around the corner from me growing up. When the elementary school bus pulled up to my street, Gilbert Lane, I could see Scott in the window, excitedly patting the seat next to him, waiting for me. When you are little, going to that big school on the hill, Greens Farms Elementary, there is no more reassuring feeling than your buddy’s big smile each and every morning. At Greens Farms, Scott and I had classes together. And we would talk. And talk. I do not know what we talked about. What I do know was: Mrs. Hazard, our third grade teacher, did not want us to talk. She would make us write what I think were called, “Times.” They could be five times, 10 times, 50 times or, if you were really bad, 100 times. We would have to write, “I will not talk. I will not talk. I will not …” On and on. What Mrs. Hazard didn’t know: If Scott or I had to finish their work, the other one would pay the penance and scrawl out our punishment. That is what best friends do. One day that third grade year, the mom of our friend, Chipper Dunn, picked us up from school. It must have been a half day. We thought we were all going to Chipper’s house, but Mrs. Dunn first dropped off Scott at his home. I’ll never forget this. As Scott went up his driveway, Mrs. Dunn told us Scott’s mom had passed away from cancer. I still can’t even imagine. Soon after, my family moved to Miami. Scott’s sister, Gayle, would tell my mom that Scott would ride his bike around the corner and down Gilbert Lane, past our old house. I ended up moving back to Westport in middle school. Things change and people do, too. We were at different schools, and didn’t see each other as often. But there was always a bond. I would have told you this before the recent tragic news. We were different from Elementary School, but we had a special connection. Scott made it so. I always felt like I could count on him if I needed him. I hope he felt the same. He always went out of his way to try to get together when he came east. In recent years, we connected even more. His birthday was a day apart from my mom’s, which made it easy for all of us to remember. He often wrote really thoughtful notes to my mom. That connection never ends. We will always love the Cussimano Kid. To Patrick, Gayle, Eric and all the Cussimanos, I wanted to wish our sincerest condolences from the whole Marchand Family. Scott’s loss is shocking, but he was a great man and a great best friend.

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Alice Marchand posted a condolence

Saturday, May 31, 2025

So sorry for your loss I wasflattered lastFebruary when I received a text from Scott acknowledging my Birthday that we both shared. I can still see Scott saving a seat on the kindergarten bus for Andrew. He was a lovely young man whose life ended too soon. Sending heartfelt love to the family. Alice Marchand

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Michael Maulella posted a condolence

Thursday, May 29, 2025

As children growing up together, when visiting during the holidays, we would listen to my records and rock out in my bedroom. Sometimes, we would pile in my brother's 69 Eldorado and travel to Howard Beach to see amazing Christmas displays. I'm gonna miss you cuz...

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The family of Scott Dreyer Cussimano uploaded a photo

Thursday, May 29, 2025

Scott Dreyer Cussimano

Receiving Line

Celebration of Scott's Life

Words of Remembrance

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