Morris E. Patrick

Morris Eugene Patrick (“Pat”) was born February 13, 1943, to Gilbert and Sarah Patrick outside of Louisiana, Missouri. He died peacefully on July 5, 2026 in the home he helped choose so that he and his beloved wife, Wanda, could spend their later years surrounded by family, sharing that home with one of their daughters, her husband, and their children.

Much of Pat’s life was spent in service. A Vietnam veteran, he then built a distinguished 33-year career with the Missouri State Highway Patrol, rising through the ranks to become Lieutenant Colonel. He carried deep respect for the military, law enforcement, and the ideals of duty, patriotism, and the rule of law. Fellow veterans knew how much he enjoyed swapping stories, and those who served beside him remember a man who wore the uniform with professionalism, confidence, and quiet authority.

Yet a uniform was only one way of knowing him.

There was another version of him that many knew just as well: the man in t-shirts and blue jeans at an auction, carefully studying a potential treasure and expertly bidding to add it to his and his wife’s collections. He lovingly restored antique cabinet cards, spending hours repairing fragile photographs that many others would have given up on. He called them his “ghosts," preserving the images of people long forgotten. His captivation with history extended to stereoscopic photographs, Native American art and jewelry, firearms, and an extensive collection of canes, many of which he restored or reimagined with remarkable craftsmanship.

Pat had an extraordinary eye—not only for craftsmanship, history and authenticity but for the value of history itself. A man who preserves a cane from a captain in the Battle of New Orleans is not just a collector; he is someone who sees an important story embedded in an object. A man who can get an old tool to work again and carefully replace stones in fine jewelry is not just handy; he understands the worth of things.

He had a great love of nature and being outdoors, especially on his family property in the country. He spent hours clearing four-wheeler trails for his grandkids and sitting in deer blinds patiently waiting for the deer he would hunt and respectfully watching the ones he would let go. He taught his grandson how to coax life back into an old tractor so together they could create more spaces for fishing and picnics. Pat was as comfortable on farm equipment as he was sitting on a Victorian sofa.

His family knew yet another side of him.

He was the cook in the household, fixing delicious meals and growing his own tomatoes from seedlings. He faithfully watched Kansas City Chiefs games and The Curse of Oak Island, could quote nearly every episode of Gunsmoke, rarely turned down dark chocolate or coconut cream pie, and almost always had a Diet Pepsi nearby, often with Fox News streaming from his place in the kitchen.

Music was a lifelong companion, and his taste was widespread. Two of his favorites being Amarillo by Morning and the Righteous Brothers' recording of Unchained Melody. He loved doing crossword puzzles, having pun competitions with his eldest daughter, and playing wonderfully silly games with his granddaughters. His family often got to see his funny side, the dad who would tell his youngest daughter animals lying in the road were “just resting” and that cows raising their tails were waving, the dad who playfully bristled when anyone said the word pig and told the best dad jokes. His unique grin is etched in their memories.

Perhaps his greatest legacy, however, was the family he helped shape. Love, not biology, determined who belonged. He embraced his wife's daughter from her first marriage as simply his daughter, who knew instantly she could turn to him for advice. He also welcomed the presence of his wife's former husband, so his daughters had a Dad and a Papa, and helped take care of him and his wife’s parents in their last years with the same steadfast devotion he showed the rest of the family.

He is survived by his wife, Wanda; his daughters, Debrah Huffman and Roxanne Schellman; sons-in-law Dave Amiss and Matt Schellman; his beloved grandchildren, Danny (Alex), Caroline, Mattie, and Ella; his brother and sister, Gil and Gail, and their spouses and children; and many other relatives, friends, fellow officers, veterans, and neighbors whose lives were enriched by knowing him.

He leaves behind restored photographs whose subjects will never know the care they received, canes polished smooth by patient hands, well-used tools, treasured collections, family traditions, and stories that will be told for years to come. More importantly, he leaves behind a family that learned from his example that strength and gentleness can live comfortably in the same person, that history is worth preserving, that things built to last are worth repairing, and that love is measured less by words than by steady acts of care.

Pat’s Celebration of Life will be July 31, 2026 at 1:00 p.m. at Mt. Moriah, Newcomer & Freeman Funeral Home, located at 10507 Holmes Road, Kansas City, MO 64131. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Missouri Highway Patrol’s MASTERS program (https://www.themastersmo.org), a cause very close to Pat’s heart.