Thank you for being here today to celebrate the life of Robert “Bobby” Cosio—though if you knew him well, you probably just called him Bobby, or maybe even “MAD,” if you had the honor of growing up around him.
Bobby was many things to many people: a father, a brother, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a partner, a craftsman, a friend—and maybe most memorably… a character. Quite literally. If you ever saw the MAD magazine mascot—that wild-eyed, red-haired troublemaker with a mischievous grin—you might’ve thought, “That’s Bobby!” And honestly, you wouldn’t have been far off. With his signature freckles, untamable red hair, and that mischievous laugh that always hinted he was up to something, Bobby was the MAD character in human form. A little wild, a lot lovable, and completely unforgettable.
Bobby was, without question, a free bird. He lived on his own terms—sometimes recklessly, sometimes beautifully, but always honestly. His youngest sister Diane remembers the last hug he gave her—strong, meaningful, and full of love. “I love you,” he told her. And if you ever got one of Bobby’s hugs, you know—they weren’t half-hearted. They were big, heartfelt, and wrapped with everything he felt but maybe didn’t always say. That hug now lives on in her heart, just like Bobby lives on in all of ours.
He brought light into the world in his own way—whether through a joke, a smile, or just showing up with that unmistakable energy. He was the life of the party, the guy you hoped would walk through the door because you knew something good—or at least interesting—was about to happen. He loved the simple joys in life: boat rides, jetskis, family meals where laughter was louder than words. Bobby didn’t need much to be happy, just the people he loved and a little fun along the way.
He was also fiercely protective of the people he loved—especially his sisters. His sister Christina could tell you stories about concerts and nightclubs where Bobby wasn’t just her plus-one, he was her personal security guard. The moment a guy tried to say hello, Bobby would suddenly appear, planting himself between them like a human wall. Whether Christina liked it or not, Bobby was there to make sure no one got too close. It was frustrating at times, but deeply telling of who he was: loyal, watchful, and never far when someone he loved might need him.
He was a skilled craftsman, proud of his work in tile, construction, and fencing. He built things that lasted—both with his hands and with his heart. But his greatest creation? His family. Bobby was a protector, a fighter, and above all, a deeply loyal man. His children—Bobby II, Carlos, and Anissa—were his world. His grandchildren and his great-grandson, Rio, brought him so much pride and joy. He lit up when he talked about them.
And then there was Debbie. They weren’t married in the traditional sense, but the love between them was as real and strong as any bond could be. They shared a deep connection—one of mutual respect, devotion, and care. To Bobby, she was his partner in every way that mattered. Their love was the kind you could feel just by being near them.
But Bobby’s journey wasn’t without its battles. He struggled with addiction—something many of us tried to help him through. And while those battles sometimes distanced him from us, they never defined who he was. In his moments of sobriety, we saw the fullness of Bobby: joyful, present, and whole. We saw the man who picked up the pieces of our family after we lost our parents. The peacemaker. The bridge-builder. The glue that held us together when things felt like they might fall apart.
Losing his brother Charlie was something Bobby never fully recovered from. It was a loss too deep to carry alone. In trying to dull that pain, he sometimes lost sight of himself—but not of us. His love for family never faded. It was his reason for being, even when the road got rough.
Bobby passed unexpectedly, riding a bike—wind in his hair, heart still beating with that restless spirit. It hit all of us like a punch to the gut. But we find peace in knowing he’s now with Charlie again, and with his parents, in a place where there’s no more struggle, only peace.
So today, we remember not just that Bobby is gone, but that he was here. Loud, funny, fiercely loyal, and full of heart. We remember the man who made us laugh when we didn’t want to. The man who fought hard, loved hard, and lived even harder.
Goodbye for now, Bobby. Your journey may be over, but your spirit—your wild, stubborn, loving spirit—will always live on in the stories we tell, the hugs we give, and the family you leave behind.
We love you. Always.
Rest in peace.
