Todd is survived by his children, Shauna (Georgio) Ricker, Colby Ricker; sister Leslie Ricker; several cousins & dear friends.

Todd’s life story will be shared during his visitation at the funeral home, 1411 Vintage Lane (Between 390 & Long Pond Rd.), Tuesday, May 6th, 2-4 & 6-8 PM. His funeral service will be celebrated Wednesday, May 7th, 10:30 AM at the funeral home. Immediately following, Todd will be laid to rest in White Haven Memorial Park.

Todd V. Ricker
May 20, 1965 – April 24, 2025

“How do you describe a man whose staple identity is a striped shirt?”
With a laugh, a story, and a heart full of loyalty.

Todd V. Ricker lived life in vivid color—his sleeves perpetually rolled up, camera in hand, and a quick-witted joke always ready to lift someone’s day. Born on May 20, 1965, in Rochester, New York, Todd was the son of Marie Jane (Tartaglia) Ricker, a devoted retail worker, and Howard Ricker Jr., a U.S. Army mountaineer who served with quiet courage during World War II. His father’s humility and strength shaped Todd’s values deeply, and that influence carried through every stage of his life.

Todd grew up on Merchants Road in a house often filled with the roar of pretend sirens and the clatter of Matchbox cars. From an early age, he was fascinated by all things loud, fast, and mechanical—TONKA trucks, flashing lights, and especially fire engines. A devoted fan of the TV show Emergency! in the 1970s, young Todd would chase the sound of real fire trucks on his bike, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. It came as no surprise when he became a firefighter—it was in his bones from the very beginning.

He attended School #46, St. John the Evangelist grammar school, and East High School, where he developed a deep love for mechanics and computers. Even as a kid, Todd could disassemble and reassemble anything, a talent that became the cornerstone of his career. He worked as a mechanic, firefighter, and EMT, serving with Brighton Ambulance and various emergency services. But for Todd, these roles were more than jobs—they were his calling. He dedicated his life to fixing what was broken, whether it was a machine, a moment, or someone’s faith in the world.

He was a big fish in a small pond, known for being both headstrong and hilarious. Family dinners and Sunday masses were often punctuated by Todd’s antics. He had an uncanny ability to find the funny in any situation—especially when he wasn’t supposed to. And if you knew him, you probably heard one of his favorite stories more than once: “Remember when…” he’d start, grinning.

Todd’s greatest pride was his role as a father. His children, Colby (“Peanut,” born in 1992) and Shauna (“Pumpkin,” born in 1995), were the lights of his life. He poured everything into fatherhood, crafting a world filled with love, laughter, and adventure. From magical Disney trips to peaceful escapes in the Adirondacks, to holiday traditions and meals shared at Bella Pasta—always with a dirty martini—Todd made every moment count.
He shared a lifetime of friendship and mischief with his chosen family: Dave Patterson, Danny Walsh, TJ Geen, and Jarrod Church. His beloved motorcycle rides and the stories that came from them were legendary. He held a lifelong bond with his sister Leslie, born in 1960, now living in Sacramento, California—a connection built on years of sibling laughter, mischief, and unwavering love.

Todd had an open heart for music—playing piano and listening to every genre—and a fierce passion for sports. He was a diehard Buffalo Bills fan and never missed a chance to golf, fish, or root for his favorite teams. His childhood dogs, Dusty, Chief, and Sheegwa, sparked a lifelong love of animals that he carried with him always.

Though emotions didn’t come easily to him, Todd’s actions spoke louder than words. He was stubborn, compassionate, goofy, protective, loyal, and headstrong. His humor was infectious, his spirit unforgettable, and his impact immeasurable. He made people feel seen, heard, and valued—often while making them laugh until they cried.

Todd’s legacy lives on in the lives he touched, the stories he told (and re-told), and the memories his family and friends now hold like a favorite striped shirt—worn proudly, lovingly, and full of character.

Rest easy, Todd. The firehouse is quieter now, the road a little lonelier, and the fishing dock still. But your laughter still echoes in our hearts—and always will.