A December Gathering

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This morning, I saw that my article, A December Gathering, is now the most‑read piece on the publishing company’s website. I was surprised at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

Writing about the Eppig mausoleum at St. John Cemetery was one of those rare moments when my work as a funeral director and my work as a writer came together so naturally that they felt like the same calling. The story was never just about a mausoleum. It was about legacy, reunion, and the quiet strength of a place built to hold a family’s history.

A year ago, on an unseasonably warm December morning, I met members of the Eppig family at the mausoleum—some of them cousins meeting for the very first time. There was something almost cinematic about it: the soft winter light, the stillness of the cemetery, the sense that time had briefly loosened its grip so the past and present could stand in the same room.

When we stepped inside, the caskets were intact—an unexpected and deeply emotional discovery. You could feel the weight of it settle over everyone. This wasn’t just architecture or genealogy. It was their great‑great‑grandfather, the illustrious 19th‑century brewer Leonhard Eppig, and the generations who followed him. In that moment, the mausoleum became a central point of connection, a physical anchor for a family whose branches had stretched far beyond their original Brooklyn roots.

Watching them take it in—seeing recognition, pride, grief, and wonder move across their faces—reminded me exactly what cemeteries are for. They are not simply places of rest; they are places of return. They gather people back to themselves.

Writing this article gave me deeper insight into why I do this work. These are the stories that make life as a funeral director so meaningful. They offer a front‑row seat to the ways families rediscover each other, reclaim their history, and find beauty in the continuity of their lineage. And as a writer, moments like this sharpen my understanding of legacy, emotion, and the quiet truths that live inside every mausoleum, every headstone, every name carved in stone.

I truly loved working on this story. It took time—not because it was difficult, but because I wanted to do the family justice, and I didn’t want it to end. The deeper I went into Leonhard Eppig’s legacy, the more I wanted to learn. It turned out to be the perfect holiday‑season story about connection, heritage, and the threads that carry a family forward.

Meeting members of the Eppig family and discovering their remarkable history is exactly the kind of experience that reminds me why I love writing.

If you subscribe to American Cemetery & Cremation magazine, you can find the link to the full story on the KB website, where it’s now featured.

And thank you to @mikesspics for sharing a few of your wonderful photos for the piece.

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