Richard "Ricky" Burchfield

Richard Wayne Burchfield

Richard “Rick” Wayne Burchfield, 56, of Indianapolis, passed away on October 25, 2025. He was born on March 15, 1969, to Charles and Patricia (Whitley) Burchfield.

Rick leaves behind his lifelong partner and wife, Elizabeth “Libby” Browers — together for over 42 years — and their four children: Rick, Dustin, Brandi, and AJ. He was a proud grandpa to Ricky, Jaedynn, Brooklynn, Josh, Delilah, and Aliyah. He is also survived by his siblings, Randy and Renae.

He was preceded in passing by his parents, his brother Rodney Dycus, and his granddaughter Madison.

Rick had a gift — he could turn any story into a moment worth listening to. He was wise, funny, and had a way of telling stories that didn’t just make people listen — he made them lean in. Whether you spent hours or minutes with him, you always walked away with something more: a laugh, a new way of looking at things, or just a little more heart.

Rick’s defining feature was love. His heart knew no limits.

He loved the simple things that make life beautiful: hunting, fishing, being outdoors, good music, good times, and good people. But above all, Rick loved his family. He loved his wife. He loved his children. And his grandkids — they were his whole world.

Rick’s idea of family didn’t stop at blood. Over the years, he gathered a long list of “adopted kids,” because there was never a fatherless child when Rick was around. His lifelong friends became his brothers. If you knew Rick, you knew love — real, unconditional love. Sometimes it came wrapped in tough love, but you always knew he meant it. If you needed help, you called Rick. He might give you a good talking-to afterward, but he’d still be the first one there to pull you out of whatever mess you were in.

He was strong. He was steady. He was an anchor. Rick was the person you went to with your biggest worries, your biggest decisions, or just a bad day — and he always gave you exactly what you needed: a laugh, a story, or a bit of truth. Sometimes all three at once.

We’re left with more than memories. Rick leaves us with lessons — about family, about strength, about showing up for the people you love. He leaves us with laughter, even when times are hard. And he leaves us with wisdom — the kind that sneaks its way into our stories and conversations, keeping a little piece of him alive in all of us.