Richard Davis

Richard “Rick” Davis

November 12, 1972 – July 8, 2026

Some people leave behind possessions. Rick left behind stories—stories that will be told around campfires, in deer camps, at family cookouts, at horse shows, and anywhere people gather to laugh. He wouldn’t have wanted people sitting around talking about how he died. He would’ve wanted them smiling about how he lived.

Rick passed away peacefully on July 8, 2026, at Linda White Hospice House, surrounded by those who loved him most.

Rick never met a stranger. If you knew him for five minutes, you probably walked away with a nickname, a story, or the feeling that you’d known him for years. He had a gift for making people laugh, even on the hardest days, and believed there wasn’t much in life that couldn’t be made a little better with a joke.

For fifteen years, Rick proudly worked at IMI, where he built more than a career—he built lifelong friendships. His crew became a second family, and Tara often joked that they got along so well because he spent more time with his work family than he did with her. A proud member of Teamsters Local 215, Rick took tremendous pride in serving as a Union Steward. He believed in standing up for his coworkers, making sure everyone was treated fairly, and never hesitated to be the voice of someone who needed one. He worked hard every day, but he also knew how to lighten the mood. If stress filled the room, Rick was usually the first one to crack a joke, pull a prank, or make someone laugh.

At the center of everything Rick did was his family. Together, Rick and Tara built a life filled with laughter, horses, trucks, projects that somehow always became bigger projects, and a family they treasured above all else.

His favorite title, however, was “Dad.” Taylor was the light of his world. Nothing made him happier than telling people about her latest barrel race or proudly showing off pictures and videos of her accomplishments. Whether she won or lost, he was always her biggest fan and loudest supporter.

He shared a special bond with A.J., his best buddy. The two loved pestering Mom together, sending funny videos back and forth, and finding reasons to laugh. Watching Cheyenne grow into the amazing young woman she has today filled him with pride, and he celebrated every milestone she achieved.

Rick also adored his nieces and nephews. To them, he wasn’t just Uncle Rick—he was the fun uncle. The one who joked around made everyone laugh, and always made sure they knew they had someone they could count on, no matter what life threw their way.

If there was one thing that could keep Rick talking for hours, it was hunting, fishing, or guns. Ask him one question about a hunting trip, his favorite rifle, or a new firearm, and you’d better get comfortable because you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. He loved telling stories, and somehow, they only got better every time he told them.

Rick also loved cooking for the people he cared about. Whether he was grilling for family, experimenting with homemade beer, or simply bringing everyone together over good food, those were some of his happiest moments.

He had a lifelong love for lifted trucks—especially his beloved brown truck. Nothing brought out that mischievous grin faster than doing a burnout, finding the biggest mud hole around, or reaching over to hit what Taylor affectionately called the “no-no button” on his diesel truck just to roll coal on the unsuspecting car behind them. That grin always gave him away before anyone could tell him to stop.

If you ever needed help, Rick was there. Whether it was fixing something, lending a hand, standing up for someone, or simply showing up when it mattered most, you never had to wonder if he’d come. He already was.

Though his time here was far too short, Rick faced every challenge life placed before him with the same determination, grit, and quiet strength that defined the way he lived. Even through unimaginable pain his greatest concern was never himself, it was always the people he loved.

Rick’s legacy isn’t measured by the years he lived but by the laughter he created the lives he touched, and the love he poured into his family and friends. His stories will continue to be told every hunting season, every backyard barbecue, every horse show, and every time someone hears a diesel rumble and can’t help but smile.

Rick is survived by his beloved wife, Tara Davis; his children, Cheyenne(Jonah), A.J., and Taylor; his father, Richard (Jeanette) Davis of Bellmont, Illinois; his mother, Carole (Nolan) Phillips; his sisters, Leanne Davis, Tina (Terry) Odom, and Mary (Chris) Shepherd; his brother, Brent (April) Wraley; his nieces, Shyanne, Angel, and Tender; his nephew, Tristian; his great-nephews, Oliver, Liam, Owen, Dean, and Noah; his great-nieces, Willow,and Stella; along with countless extended family members, coworkers, hunting buddies, and friends who were blessed to know him.

He was welcomed into Heaven by his grandparents, Mel and Helen Davis; his stepmother, Henrietta Davis; his Uncle Ed Davis; his Aunts Melva Parkhill, Anna Woods, and Eva Darty; and his Uncle Tom McKannan.

If you hear a diesel rumble, smell something cooking on the grill, see a young barrel racer chasing her dreams, or find yourself listening to one more hunting story than you planned on, take a moment and smile. That’s exactly how Rick would want to be remembered.

A Celebration of Life will be held at a later date. Family and friends are encouraged to come together to share stories, laughter, and memories—just as Rick would have wanted.

 

In lieu of flowers, the family kindly requests memorial contributions be made to help support Rick’s children and continue the future he worked so hard to provide for them. Donations may be mailed to:

Richard “Rick” Davis Memorial Fund

P.O. Box 332

Cynthiana, IN 47612