By Talibdin “TD” El-Amin
There are some deaths you read about, all worthy and important to someone.
And there are some that reach into your chest and sit there.
Ronald “Big Ron” Milton was the latter.
To many, he was the owner of Backyard BBQ. A familiar face. A place where food wasn’t just food—it was fellowship. To others, he was a father, a son, a cousin, a nephew, a friend. A man whose presence carried warmth before he ever said a word.
To me, he was family, my younger cousin.
That’s what makes this harder to write. I know every death deserves reflection because everyone matters to someone, but the manner and untimeliness of this further forces us to look beyond the individual, especially as a statistic in an epidemic of violence that plagues our community—to the ripple effect and impact upon the family and community. The children left behind. The parents, and grandparents. The cousins. The friends, etc and the quiet spaces that used to be filled with laughter, conversation, and presence.
And I saw that ripple in real time.
I had to watch the numb glare of his father and mother as they walked out of the emergency room—carrying a weight no parent should ever have to carry—coming to confirm to family and friends gathered that Ron was gone. There were no words. Just aimless-lost looks. A silence that spoke to the unbelief of the moment.
I watched the numbness on his grandmother’s face—my aunt—who has already endured loss after loss, now faced with the reality that her grandson, who had just sat at her feet on Easter, was taken from her.
And then there were his children.
Children who had already experienced the tragic loss of their sister…now forced to process another absence.
Ron was a vibe. He gave love freely and carried himself with a spirit that made people feel seen, even after losing his daughter.
I remember calling him just to say I see him and I’m proud of him. He was building, dreaming, inspiring.
Now that vision is interrupted.
This isn’t just about one man’s death. It’s about what continues to eat away at us—young men unable to regulate emotion, environments filled with substances that dull judgment, and decisions made in moments that destroy lives.
To those responsible—you were cowards. And justice will find you.
To our young men—stop and think before you act.
To the community—if you know something, say something.
Ron was a centerpiece in our family and community. A source of great joy and pride. A really good person. A hardworking father, son, nephew, cousin, friend and entrepreneur whose presence emanated love.
I’m really just rambling. Venting. Hurt.
But thankful.
Thankful I was blessed to call Ronald family.
Community, keep showing love. It matters.
