Life becomes
a little clearer
after enough loss.
You begin to understand
how fragile people are.
How quickly time moves.
How many moments
we waste
holding onto anger,
pride,
or things
that will not matter
years from now.
Because in the end,
it is rarely
the arguments
we remember most.
It is the love.
The laughter.
The people
who made life
feel lighter.
So if you can,
choose softness.
Laugh often.
Say “I’m sorry”
when your heart knows
you should.
Stop carrying grudges
that only make
your spirit heavier.
Not every situation
can be fixed,
and not every ending
will feel fair.
But peace begins
when we stop trying
to control
what cannot be changed.
Life is too short
to spend it
constantly angry,
constantly distant,
constantly waiting
for the perfect moment
to love people properly.
Tell them now.
Forgive now.
Appreciate now.
Because one day,
the people you love
become memories,
and suddenly
you would give anything
for one more conversation,
one more laugh,
one more ordinary day together.
So love deeply.
Forgive gently.
Hold people close
while you still can.
Because happiness
is not found
in perfection—
it is found
in the moments
we choose love
over bitterness.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
Obituary
With deep sadness, we announce the passing of Enrico Franco Pasquini. Rick was born on July 29, 1940, in Rome, Italy, and passed away on July 17, 2026, at his home in Fairfield, Virginia, surrounded by family. Rick leaves behind his devoted wife, best friend, and life partner, Suzanne Pasquini. He is also survived by his 2 children, Marc (Diana) and Tricia (Mark); 6 grandchildren: Adreanna, Donovan (McKenzie), Bianca, Ryan, Michael, and Gianna; and 1 great-grandchild, Massimo. Rick Pasquini was a man whose life was defined not by the hardships he endured, but by the love, generosity, and strength with which he met them.
Born in Rome, Italy, in 1940 and adopted as an infant into a loving but impoverished family, Rick grew up during the devastation of World War II. As the oldest child, he helped feed his brothers and sisters, often searching for food, collecting scrap metal, and sacrificing his own comfort so his family could survive. Despite experiencing hunger, poverty, and uncertainty, he learned life's greatest lessons from the love, honesty, and resilience of his adoptive parents.
At the age of 18, Rick made the difficult journey to America in hopes of building a better future. He arrived without speaking a word of English and with very little formal education. The transition was far more difficult than he had imagined, and he had to fight simply to stay in touch with the family he loved so deeply. But Rick never gave up. Through perseverance, determination, and an incredible work ethic, he taught himself a trade that would define much of his life. While working at a lumber yard delivering building materials, he carefully watched skilled carpenters, asked questions, and learned everything he could. Without formal training, he became a master builder and started his own construction business in northern New Jersey. Rick was truly a self-made man, proving that determination, curiosity, and hard work can accomplish what others might think impossible.
At a community dance in the early 1960's, Rick met Barbara, and together they built a family with their two children, Patricia and Marc. Eleven years after arriving in America, one of Rick's greatest dreams came true when he returned to Italy with Barbara and their children to reunite with the family he had missed so deeply. It was a homecoming filled with love and a testament to the promise he had made to never forget where he came from. His family in Italy remained close to his heart throughout his entire life, and after building a life in America, he returned often. There were many memorable trips back to Italy during his lifetime.
Later in life, Rick found love again when he met Suzanne on a ski club trip to Vermont. They married and built a wonderful life together, moving his construction business to the Princeton area of New Jersey. Suzanne became not only his wife but his greatest companion, bringing him immense happiness. Rick often said she was his idol, and anyone who knew them could see the deep love and admiration they shared. There were many trips to the Netherlands, Suzanne's homeland, where family ties only grew stronger with each visit.
Rick worked tirelessly until the age of 65. Retirement didn't mean slowing down—it meant fulfilling another dream. He built the home he had always envisioned in Fairfield, Virginia, where he and Suzanne enjoyed the life they had worked so hard to create. It was a fitting accomplishment for a man who had spent his entire life building—not just homes, but opportunities, friendships, and a family rooted in love.
But if you asked those of us who knew Rick what made him special, we wouldn't begin with his career. We would talk about his heart.
Food was one of Rick's love languages. His table was always open. Family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, and even strangers were welcomed with the same warmth. If Rick learned someone was struggling or hungry, he made sure they had a meal. Inspired by his mother in Italy, who was an exceptional cook, he developed a lifelong passion for preparing authentic Italian meals. He never relied on written recipes. He cooked by memory, instinct, and heart, adding a pinch of this or a handful of that, just as he had learned growing up. For Rick, cooking was never just about the food—it was about bringing people together. One of Suzanne's coworkers described him perfectly: **"A man of great enthusiasm for life, deep love for those he adopted as friends and family, and a believer that community happens when we eat and drink together."**
That truly was Rick.
He never knew a stranger. Whether standing in line at the grocery store, traveling across the country, or flying overseas, he had an incredible ability to connect with people. Conversations with strangers often became lifelong friendships. On one flight to Italy, he met a couple and, before the plane landed, had invited them to the wedding he was traveling to attend. That was simply Rick. His heart was open to everyone, and his friendships lasted a lifetime—from coworkers he met decades ago to people he encountered on vacations in Hilton Head, Cancun, and countless other places.
Rick will be deeply missed, but his life leaves us with something extraordinary. It leaves us with stories that make us laugh, recipes remembered by heart instead of written on paper, traditions that will continue for generations, and memories that will forever remind us what it means to love generously.
As we gather to celebrate Rick's life, we invite everyone whose life he touched to share their stories, photographs, music, and memories. Together we will honor Enrico—our Rick—and celebrate the remarkable legacy of a man whose greatest gift was making every person he met feel like family.
Rick often said that what made him rich was never money. It was family. It was love. Considering where he began, that's an extraordinary thing to say. He experienced poverty, loss, disappointment, and hardship, yet he chose gratitude. He chose kindness. He chose generosity.
After a brief hospital stay, Rick passed away peacefully at home on July 17, surrounded by the love of his family during his final days in hospice. While our hearts are broken by his loss, we can also be profoundly grateful that we were blessed to know him.
Rick's life teaches us that our beginnings do not define us. What defines us is how we love, how we work, how we care for others, and how we lift the people around us. Rick did all of those things with humility, grace, and an open heart.
His hands built beautiful homes, but his greatest masterpiece was the life he created and the people he loved.
We will miss his laughter. We will miss his stories. We will miss his cooking. We will miss his many tears of joy. We will miss the warmth of his smile and the comfort of knowing he was always there to lend a hand. We will miss his fiery spirit. We will miss his presence. We will miss his energy.. We will miss his fires. We will miss his garden. We will miss him.
But most of all, we will carry forward the example he gave us: to work hard, to love deeply, to never forget where we came from, and to always make room for one more person at the table.
Thank you Honey, Dad, Daddy, Pop pop, Rick...for showing us how to live. We love you, and we will never forget you.
Celebration of Life
Celebration of Life for Rick will be on Saturday, September 19th at 1:00 p.m. The celebration will take place at Wade's Mill in Raphine, Virginia. See the detailed information below:
Rick's Table - Favorite Recipes
You can use this third text box to add more stories about your loved one, tell about the family, share information about the funeral service, etc.
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Memory wall
Life becomes
a little clearer
after enough loss.
You begin to understand
how fragile people are.
How quickly time moves.
How many moments
we waste
holding onto anger,
pride,
or things
that will not matter
years from now.
Because in the end,
it is rarely
the arguments
we remember most.
It is the love.
The laughter.
The people
who made life
feel lighter.
So if you can,
choose softness.
Laugh often.
Say “I’m sorry”
when your heart knows
you should.
Stop carrying grudges
that only make
your spirit heavier.
Not every situation
can be fixed,
and not every ending
will feel fair.
But peace begins
when we stop trying
to control
what cannot be changed.
Life is too short
to spend it
constantly angry,
constantly distant,
constantly waiting
for the perfect moment
to love people properly.
Tell them now.
Forgive now.
Appreciate now.
Because one day,
the people you love
become memories,
and suddenly
you would give anything
for one more conversation,
one more laugh,
one more ordinary day together.
So love deeply.
Forgive gently.
Hold people close
while you still can.
Because happiness
is not found
in perfection—
it is found
in the moments
we choose love
over bitterness.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
Dear Suzanne, hang in there !
Daarna volgde: "ik ben wie ik ben" en: "o, sorry, ik ben die ik was...." met een klein lachje, daarna verdween Rick.
Er achteraf over nadenkend weet ik dat het zo'n beetje dezelfde tijd moet zijn geweest als dat Rick van huis werd opgehaald, half 11 - kwart voor 11.....
En later, achteraf gezien de dag dat Rick werd gecremeerd, voelde ik dat Rick achter de “sluier” verdween, de aarde echt loslatend….
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Some suggestions are:
-Connections Plus Lextingon, VA, the Hospice Company that took care of Rick in his final days,
-The SPCA of Lexington
-World Central Kitchen
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