Ronald DeBurkarte, 69, of Creedmoor, North Carolina, passed away peacefully at the Durham VA Medical Center.

All the best stories start with, "You know what Ron did one time..." This is one of them.

If you spent any length of time in Granville County, you probably knew Ron. For more than a decade, he owned and operated Ron's Grill on Central Avenue in Butner, where he combined his love of cooking with his love of serving people. You could catch him in the front window at 4:30 most mornings, rolling biscuits by hand and getting breakfast ready for his community. In recent years, many knew him from the Butner Valero, where he greeted everyone with the same warm smile, easy charisma, and just enough mischief to keep life interesting. If you ever fell victim to one of his legendary pranks, congratulations – you were one of his favorites. We’re pretty sure Ron had a daily prank quota he had to meet.

Ron never met a stranger. He had a dynamic personality and could strike up a conversation with anyone, making everyone feel like they'd been friends for years. He'd give you the shirt off his back and, whenever he could, he quietly helped people who'd fallen on hard times. He also deeply appreciated the love and support he received from family and friends when hard times came his way.

Ron felt most at home outdoors. He was a natural-born hunter and skilled marksman, and his brother swears he could hear fish jumping and game stirring from miles away. Whether he was sitting in a deer stand before daylight, hauling fish out of waters everyone else had given up on, or spontaneously jumping into the lake to cool off, he was exactly where he wanted to be. He could catch a fish in a mud puddle at the end of a driveway, and we'd dare you to prove him wrong.

Ron loved animals as much as he loved people. No turtle was ever left in the middle of the road. No stray or abandoned animal was ignored. He noticed the things others drove past and believed every living thing deserved a chance.

He was the cool, fearless, and protective big brother who kept his younger siblings out of more trouble than he got them into.

He was a dreamer. He took chances. If it didn’t work out, he took another one. He could spot a treasure at any yard sale. He couldn't sit still and sought fun and adventure every day. He was complicated. He was the life of every party, and if there wasn't a party, he'd start one. He wasn’t afraid to cry. He was a natural leader without ever trying to be one, intelligent well beyond his formal education, and a problem-solver who could repair just about anything with whatever happened to be nearby.

His daughters are grateful for childhood memories with their Dad of fishing, hunting, grilling, box-truck camping, very experimental carpentry, epic treehouse wars, surprises, blanket forts, music turned all the way up, taking care of animals that somehow always just appeared at the house, tagging along with him to job sites, and sneaking out late on school nights to watch meteor showers from the hood of the car.

Ron was born in Charleston, South Carolina, to Don and Elaine DeBurkarte. Growing up in a military family took him from Brunswick, Georgia, to Jacksonville, Florida, Norfolk, Virginia, and Cedar Rapids, Iowa, before he eventually made North Carolina his home. He served his country in the United States Navy.

Ron will be dearly remembered by his daughters, Marcy and Marisa; sons-in-law Mason and Will; his siblings, Tammy, Darrell, and Ken; his brothers- and sisters-in-law, John, Cheryl, and Betsy; three grandchildren; nieces; a nephew; and countless friends who became family over the years.

The best way to remember Ron is to do one of those Ron things. Help someone who needs it. Take a kid fishing. Rescue an animal. Build something with your hands. Jump in a lake. Throw a party. Prank your neighbor. Wrestle an alligator (that’s true!). Skip work one afternoon. Set your own daily quota of laughs. Never pass up an adventure.

If you are inclined to make a donation in memory of Ron's free and generous spirit, please give to a charity of your choosing.

Ron, we'll miss you, and we'll see you outside.