Steven Michael Cohee

Steven Michael Cohee, 68, passed away peacefully on April 8th, 2025, at the Hospice House in Kansas City, surrounded by the love of his family. A man of few words but endless love, Steve lived a life that quietly echoed with kindness, strength, and devotion—a life that touched everyone lucky enough to know him.

Steve could fix anything and could create anything from the most random of items. In fact, he was so good at it that his daughter Amanda used to tell people her dad was a mechanic. (Spoiler alert: he wasn’t.) He just made it all look that easy. Whether it was solving a problem with his hands or offering quiet reassurance with his presence, Steve was the one everyone turned to—because he always showed up, and he always found a way.

With his own two hands, he built the house he and his family called home, a place that stood not only as shelter but as a testament to his dedication and care. Whether crafting something in his shop or piddling away in his barn, he was always creating- and always pouring love into every space he occupied.

He was the kind of man who made you feel safe without saying much. Calm, cool, and collected, Steve didn’t speak often, but when he did, it was either with a perfectly cringe-worthy dad joke or something tender and sweet about the love of his life, Cindy. Married in 1994, theirs was a story of grace and healing. Both having endured separate hardships, they came together to form a beautifully blended family—proof that even after deep loss, love can be reborn. "If we would have walked two separate and difficult paths, later to be intertwined into one, it would have been enough." Dayenu.

Steve was a proud father and an adored “papa”. His displays of love came not just through words but also in the quiet, everyday acts—remodeling parts of the house, fixing anything his children or grandchildren broke (without ever getting mad), gathering everyone for bonfires by the cabin, or simply being present.

A not so well-known family story says everything about who Steve was. At a church fishing event, when his son Jeff was just eight, Steve caught a good-sized fish, slipped it onto Jeff’s hook, and proudly told him to show the crowd what he’d caught. That was our guy.

His love for having his family near him, his passion for working with his hands, and his gentle spirit will live on in the places and people he cherished most. You’ll find him in the records he played a little too loud, in the “bear hugs” that made you feel safe, in the little things he would carve out of small pieces of wood—because he never let a single thing go to waste- (insert the occasional eye roll from his wife and kids) and in the love notes still tucked away for his beloved- Cindy. He is everywhere.

If we could all learn to love like that—and to be loved like that in return—the world would be a better place.

He never complained. He never wavered. He simply was love, wrapped in an endless supply of flannel shirts, with a mischievous glint that kept us guessing what he might notice—or say—next. And though we will miss him beyond words, we are endlessly grateful for every moment, every memory, and every quiet gift he gave us.

Dayenu. It would have been enough. For every breath, every heartbeat, every goodnight kiss, thank you.

Steve was preceded in death by his parents, Bernard and Betty, brothers Leonard and Edward (Qalbee) and by the loving mother of his four children, Debbie.

Steve is survived by his wife Cindy, his six children-Travis, James, Jeff, Danielle, Bonnie, and Amanda, his 17 grandchildren, and his sister Linda.

Cremation with no services scheduled.

In lieu of flowers memorial contributions may be made to Saint Luke's Hospice House, Kansas City, Missouri and sent to Dickey Funeral Home, P.O. Box 432, Harrisonville, Missouri 64701.