We lost our mother, Shawne Retherford-Peterson, this year. I believe she would have wanted it this way, so her memorial is on this page as well, here.
It’s time for an update
(and the menu is at the bottom now)
I am fairly certain that no one looks at this site, but it still lives on. It’s my flame, my tribute to a man that was the embodiment of tribuere.
His family honored him in life; though not to the point that we have in death. That’s always the case, I suppose; one doesn’t know what is to be missed until it passed.
Thank you for your interest in Rick
Rick passed in the early morning hours of May 18th, 2018 from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident on April 21st, 2018. Those words are how this page used to start. Such simple words to capture such a profound event for so many people.
This page is set up to memorialize the life of Rick. For those whose lives he touched, it is a place to share and exchange memories. You are encouraged to share! The Memorial Wall is just for that; feel free to share your favorite memory, send your condolences to the family, remember his life in fondness or lament his passing.
That was this page’s original intent. I think the time for that has passed; comments and pictures stopped coming in about a year ago. The memories page is still available, and all user-submitted pictures are now in a gallery page.
Here is his obituary, and here was the final thing I wrote to him when he was alive.
I want to thank everyone who has supported our family this last 18 months.
I don’t know how i would have made it through those horrifying days at the 
hospital without my “nametag”, Rick’s brother Mike. Uncle Mike, your ability to lend strength by your mere presence in frankly awe-inspiring. Thank you.
My Aunt Chris was there with my father in his last moments. Chris, I frankly 
have no idea how you face the things you do. I don’t know that anyone else would have stepped into that role, and it would have haunted me until my last breath. Thank you.
My good friend and business partner Brian. Your family’s generous gesture that
memorialized my dad in such a special way showed me I was right about the type of person you are. Thank you.
Nikki O’Neill, I have never met you but am forever in your debt. Your family’s kindness, the kindness of strangers helping a stranger in need, may very well be my father’s last memory of this life. At any time, for any need, I am at your service. Thank you.
To my own life-light, my wonderful Lori, you are the reason I weathered this 
storm. You are last on this list because you are the last in my life. The last thing I think about before I go to sleep every night. The last person that will share my life. The last person on Earth that would hurt me. My last hope that there is good in the world. And you are THE LAST person anyone would want to cross, because they will feel the full wrath of your Spazzzz. Thank you.
I am sure I missed people. The outpouring of love and support was truly overwhelming. If I didn’t mention you here specifically, know that my family is appreciative of all of you, and I thank you.
Finally, to my father.
A leader’s loss leaves shoes to fill, and if ever there was a family leader it was you. What happens when the person they all turn to doesn’t fill the shoes? You were larger than life. You touched more people than even I knew. It’s such a heart-wrenching contradiction that I know I’ll never be 1/2 the man you were, I’ll never come close to filling those shoes, but yet I also know that never a day went by that you were not proud of me. I know because you told me. I guess all of that is just to say, father you are missed. Now, more than 36 months after you breathed your last, it still feels like yesterday. And I still need you.
Nor shall we mourn but rejoice. Take your place in Valhalla, brother, father, hero, for you died a glorious death.
~Always, your son.