Richard Alan Lucchesi

*April 7, 1948 – March 28, 2025*

Rick Lucchesi, 76, left this world on his own terms, just as he lived it—unscripted, unapologetic, and with a grin that could charm the devil himself.

He was born on April 7, 1948, in Elmhurst, Illinois to the late James and Irene (Sabo) Lucchesi. He spent his youth in the Chicago suburb of Villa Park, playing baseball, riding bikes until the sun went down, and playing cards with his lively Italian-Hungarian family. At 20, he was drafted into the Vietnam War that formed him into the rebellious man everyone grew to love.

Rick wasn’t one for suits or haircuts, schedules, or “shoulds.” He drove fast, rode motorcycles, grew his own marijuana, and raised his kids to question everything—especially authority. He loved sports—cheering on all of his Chicago teams and even went on the coach his son's basketball and baseball teams. He enjoyed collecting and working on his model trains and other nostalgic treasures he could find.

He was always teasing everyone—family, friends, and complete strangers that dare cross his path—dishing out playful jabs with a twinkle in his eye that made you love him more, even when you were the target. He adored his grandchildren, showering them with love and delighting in teasing them until they giggled or groaned, passing down his mischievous spark. Though he could light up a room and be the life of any party, Rick was a lone wolf at heart, roaming free and playing by his own rules, answerable to no one but himself.

Friends called him a renegade with a heart of gold; strangers called him the guy who’d give you the shirt off his back—wolf print and all. He loved loud music, open roads, and spending time in nature. To Rick, life wasn’t about following the path—it was about blazing your own, preferably with a joint in hand. His family adored him, his neighbors envied his spirit, and even the cops who pulled him over couldn’t help but crack a smile.

He spent his life bending rules, breaking molds, and building a legacy of laughter, loyalty, and a little bit of chaos.

He is preceded in death by his parents, and brother Donald. Rick leaves behind his life-partner and mother of his children, Wendy Piatt. His 3 children, Richard, who shares his loud Italian pride and love of sports and all things Chicago, Toni (Antonia DeAndero) who inherited his quick-wit and dimples; and Amanda, his baby, who shared his sarcasm and was always ready to join him for any adventure, big or small. His beautiful grandchildren, Logan, Melody, Liam and Trey, whom all share his unique and silly sense of humor. His loyal canine companions Halo and Yuki.

He will be laid to rest with Military Funeral Honors at Riverside National Cemetery, same as his parents, on his mother's birthday, April 14, 2025.

He didn’t care much for funerals, so light one up wherever you are and toast to a man who lived free and left us all a little wilder.

In lieu of flowers, Rick would’ve wanted you to do something reckless—just don’t tell the cops he sent you.