All right, here’s the basic:
Ricardo A. Lafaurie, Jr.
Born: October 27th, 1978
Died: January 2nd, 2010
Cause of death: Asphyxiation
Memorial Service:
Tuesday, January 5th; 3:00 PM
Rose Hills Memorial Park and Mortuary
3888 Workman Mill Road | Whittier, CA 90601 | (562) 699-0921
And the details:
Ricardo A. Lafaurie, Jr. had been in and out of hospitals his whole life. He was also incredibly intelligent, having frightened his parents by teaching himself how to read at the age of two.
Anyone who knows intelligence knows that it’s as much a burden as it is a privilege. Along with the power of discernment comes the knowledge of places beyond your own, and a subsequent (or consequent) longing for the freedom to come and go to them as you please. So it was no secret to anyone that he hated doctors, nurses, doctors appointments, or anything that would possibly curb his freedom.
He especially hated his dialysis appointments, which he began going to circa 2002. Not the responsibility, per se, because that was only something that any 24 year old man can begin to come to terms with. But the insistence of his doctors and caretakers (rather than trust), coupled with poor treatment by nurses without that particular calling only led him to gradually detest it, understandably or not.
He went to dialysis every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. One of the purposes of his dialysis appointments, that he learned the hard way, was to remove a fluid build-up in his lungs. Learned the hard way because it wasn’t until he had to go to the emergency room to learn exactly why he began to develop breathing problems. Once he DID learn, however, he was able to request and manage his fluid removal at his dialysis clinics and thereby prevent any further emergencies.
However, by 2008, his fluid build-up became more rapid, either because of his diet, his body’s gradual insensitivity to the procedure, or something else that only an examination would reveal. Regardless, he began to complain about becoming short of breath more and more as time went by, particularly on Sundays, because by then he hadn’t had the procedure for two full days instead of one. Sometimes, in fact, he’d need to go the ER for emergency dialysis on the weekend. We would always get there on time when that happened, and normally he would be okay.
During the week of Christmas, Rick received immunizations for pneumonia, H1N1, and another brand of flu, and on Thursday, December 24th, he had mild flu symptoms as a result. Fearing he’d communicate his symptoms to the other patients, he called and cancelled his dialysis appointment, which he’d typically get to by shuttle around 2:00 AM the next morning. However, Ricardo Sr., our father, called and reversed his calls, gently affirming that regardless of his symptoms, which were only vaccine related, he should go.
Rick begrudgingly agreed, and actually called and told this all to me while I was in Omaha, NE that night. Staying up late, I later learned by one of my sister’s twitter tweets that the driver had “left Rick”, and that he was a fucking asshole. Two days before Christmas Eve, my sister accidentally hit my father’s truck and knocked off her rear view mirror, giving her reason not to take Rick herself. Nobody suspected how imperative that could become.
When I learned that the driver supposedly left him, I assured my wife (who told me about my sister’s tweet) that Rick sabotaged the appointment, because he talked about not wanting to go earlier in the day… and I told her that he knew what he was doing. I guessed that he had probably gone out to meet the driver, told him he was feeling sick, came back in to supposedly get his bag (which he would always leave with), only to tell my sister that the driver left when he went back outside. This may be false, and it may in fact be the case that he told the driver to wait while he got his bag, and that the driver left… but what I guessed was what I knew my brother to be… and I didn’t blame him. I still don’t.
On the night of Friday, December 25th, around 8:00 PM, Rick complained of breathing problems, and my sister again wouldn’t drive her car, so she told my father, who immediately got dressed and drove out with him in his truck… which was a manual transmission that my sister didn’t know how to drive. Don’t get my sister wrong on either count. She was Rick’s primary caretaker (as my parents are both sick and middle aged), and was only concerned for safety.
Rick wanted to go to the Loma Linda Medical Center, which was about 20 minutes away and where he normally received dialysis. Although the Riverside County Medical Center was about 15 minutes away, he would have preferred to have gone to Loma Linda because of the care he received there. My father began heading in that direction, but by the time he was about to turn onto the main road heading there, he noticed Rick began to hyperventilate and asked him if he would rather go to the closer hospital. Rick agreed.
While shooting past stop signs and traffic lights, my father said that Rick’s breathing became more labored and that by the time they were 3-4 city blocks away from the medical center, Rick’s heart stopped and he collapsed… and because Rick didn’t wear his seatbelt (to assist his breathing), he collapsed onto my father who finished shifting to the hospital with trouble.
2 to 3 minutes later, my father pulled up to the door of the emergency room, screamed for help, and the paramedics brought Rick in for resuscitation. They successfully restored his pulse 11 minutes later.
From what we were told, neurologists generally agree that without five minutes of oxygen, the brain will be damaged. Because of the time that spanned while Rick was out, he suffered severe brain damage and was held in the intensive care unit in a vegetative state. I didn’t learn about this until a few days later, and when I was told, I took emergency leave, flew down, and visited him.
The extended family, which all came down to console my parents, agreed that Rick’s mild reactions to our visits were reflexive and not responsive. I visited him alone outside of visiting hours (having convinced the security guard) after I was told this. Because I generally consider myself not to be an emotional, deluded fuck, I judged what they said for myself when I visited him. I judged that what they said was wrong.
So naturally by the time the family called a meeting to announce their decision to remove Rick from life support (the night of January 1st), I disagreed with them all… knowing full well that my say would make little difference. People called me deluded, emotional, and egotistical… even though I believe I made my case about as clearly and lucidly as the doctor who informed us about his state. I told them that I didn’t want to argue about it and that I resented them asking me, seemingly only TO argue about it and give me unwanted attention. I then left the family meeting.
The next morning, my mother, father, and I went to the ICU (we left my wife Raquel at home), where we had planned to talk to the doctor, but to my surprise, were about to unplug Rick. The extended family then came into the room, and they called the nurse.
Don’t get me wrong on this count. My mother has been sick since 2000, and my father has supported this family since 1973. I considered it their decision, and I was not about to incite sedition. Truly, only God, Rick, and myself know how much I loved him. I certainly don’t have to unsuccessfully prove that to anyone by attempting to explain.
My wife joined us, and the nurse removed the ventilation tubes from his throat around 1:15 PM. He continued to breathe for an hour and 17 minutes, while family members aside from my father, mother, sister, wife and I came into and left the room. We held his hands, prayed, and cried while I caressed his head and whispered to him. His breathing went from more to less laborious throughout the hour, and he looked at me with his eyes wide open before he finally expired. I visited and spoke to him every day I could before the 2nd.
For those that knew Ricardo A. Lafaurie, AKA Dasrik, you probably knew that he was different. Even more different than your typical SRK, fighting game community head. From what I noticed, when people met him, all that was there was a sort of shock and disbelief. How could this reputation that preceded him be contained in such a fragile little shell? That’s always what seemed to be said and spelled out on the faces of those people. I was usually by his side. I know. That was for those who knew online Rick before they met him.
For those that knew him before they knew him online, it was a little different. They knew he was sharp, and always had big words… but they also knew he didn’t have the strength to back it up. So some would just laugh his posts off. Some would call him on it. Few would give in to the powerful will they sensed and acknowledge the points he made… despite what they saw.
There are even fewer people that knew him on a more periodic basis. If for a small period of time or a large span. I want to acknowledge you all, but you know who you are.
I also hold a special place in my heart for a few people that would fight for my brother. I might not have known them too well, but I knew Rick knew them… and I want to thank them for doing so.
Rick faked his own death once on SRK. He felt so meaningless. Even with the words and wisdom he shared, people would pick at him, refusing to see past the name on his account, or the avatar next to it. But he kept on retiring and kept on coming back. And those old school cats that loved him would shake their heads and smile because they couldn’t help but be happy to see him handle his business again.
I don’t mean to leave out those that fought with him. It’s not that you’re unimportant. Not in the slightest. You had the special privilege to do so. It’s just that honestly… he and I have seen a lot, and been to many places. We’ve known many people. How many? I’m only comparing to what I’ve seen. Yeah. What point is there in hyping up those claims? We felt deeply. He and I. That’s all. What I feel is that those that would argue with him with a closed spirit just really didn’t open themselves up to the even more special privilege of learning and seeking the truth along with him.
There were also the special people that began this way but ultimately became his rival and friend.
I thank you all.
I honestly don’t expect anybody to make it on such short notice, but Ricardo’s memorial service will be held on Tuesday, January 5th at 3:00 PM at Rose Hills Memorial Park and Mortuary @ 3888 Workman Mill Road in Whittier, CA (90601)
The number for the park is (562) 699 0921. Anyone from Shoryuken.com would definitely be much appreciated. Please note there is no dress code, as Rick hated ceremonies. However, if you should see people wearing anything uniform (black, one particular color), please know that attending is surely enough, and that you aren’t at all out of place. I truly believe I knew my brother better than anybody. I was born on his birthday exactly two years after him, we were Air Force brats (primarily having each other as we left friends and places behind), and we spent more time together than anyone else in my life. He not only taught himself to read and write, but he saved my mom and dad the trouble of teaching me by teaching me as well.
He got me into fighting games, took me to James Games and SHGL for the first time, and introduced me to players like Jay Snyder, Spider Dan, Duc Do, Alex Valle, Mike Watson, FlipMeign, JaHa, RekkaKen, ShadyK, and Genghis. He forced me to drive him to MAS to buy our first sticks. He introduced me to UseNET, IRC, created his own message board to substitute the disappearance of Migs’, and organized my first meets with Christian (Fuson909) and Mike (MOVAL), who were at the time the only known players from our area. He had special relationships with mods here, like Pryde and MrWizard. He helped me start Team RiCo, and motivated me to connect to other teams around the region like San Diego, R.U.N., and NSJ. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have met the members of those groups, like Nam, Hans, Bill, Jesse, Lawrence, Albert, Chip, Keishin, Walter, Thomas, Pep, Oscar, Tom, Marcos, Tony, Carlos, Donovan, Emil, Gino, Justus, Definitely, Ace, Mike Ross, Chaotic Blue, and Combo Fiend… to name a few. He inspired me to continue my silly battle for the low tier underdogs… begging me to go to the Evolutions. He asked me to post my thoughts and musings about fighting games. He would always support and encourage me to continue my fight, and to continue to organize whenever I could.
He was my brother. He loved SRK, the fighting game community, and I’m sure he would have wanted me to impart this; my short piece of his treasured life to you. You are all a piece of him, and you know what? I don’t give a fuck if I’m a sap or not. I fucking love you all for being a part of his life, and I wish you well in this and our next lifetimes. I deeply thank all that read from beginning to the end. Goodbye.
RIP Dasrik
1978 - 2010
