Michael Paul Cozad, known fondly to all as Mike, brought his signature blend of loud joy and heartfelt service into the world on December 18, 1965, in Kansas City, MO. On May 12, 2026, he left us in Grandview, MO, leaving behind a legacy as colorful as his favorite hue—“desert storm brown,” a shade that somehow perfectly captured his rugged spirit and love for all things practical.

Mike’s career was built—literally—from the ground up. Starting at age 17 as a carpenter, he climbed the ranks with the steady hand and keen eye of someone who knew every nail’s place. He was not just a craftsman but a builder of dreams, serving as a construction foreman until his retirement at 56. One of his greatest pleasures was cruising around town, beaming as he pointed out the buildings he helped bring to life. “There goes a bit of me,” he’d say, and it was always true.

Off the clock, Mike was a character who could brighten any room or highway. Known to moo at cows while driving by, he added a dash of whimsy to passing days. His conversational style was peppered with movie quotes, and his surprise bursts of singing the National Anthem were legendary, showcasing his love for both music and country. When not delighting friends and strangers alike with his humor, Mike could be found in his garage, tinkering away on imaginative projects—because why not?

He lived life at full volume, making sure everyone was included, laughing often, and never missing a chance to lend a helping hand. Family was Mike’s top priority, and he treasured the moments spent with his beloved wife Bonnie Cozad, his children Danielle Jennings (and her husband Steven Jennings), Rebekah Cozad, and Luke Cozad. He was also a proud son to Ruth and Jerry Cozad, and cherished brother to Michelle Fritsch and Brad Cozad, not forgetting the supportive brother-in-law Brian Savoie and his husband Greg Politte.

His faith was a guiding light in all he did, anchoring his commitment to service and community. Among his proudest accomplishments were his children, the church that shaped so much of his life, and his trusty truck, affectionately named Lorraine—a nod to the man’s penchant for holding onto treasures that mattered.

Mike was a man who never knew a stranger, and now, though his tools have been laid to rest and his singing paused, the joy he spread, the laughter he sparked, and the love he shared continue to echo. Here’s to Mike, whose life was a melody of hard work, faith, family, and a whole lot of mooing at the cows. You'll be missed, but never forgotten.