First, I want to thank everyone who’s here today.

A huge thank you to all the fire family and friends that have come together during this difficult time to help us make this Celebration of Life happen.

As most of you know we were supposed to be drinking beer and eating BBQ in the beautiful Chiricahua mountains but hurricane Mike decided to roll through so here we are.

On a serious note seeing so many people who loved my brother means more to me and my family than words can ever say. All of you here today, from every part of his life, is proof of how deeply he touched this world. Mike would’ve been humbled by it — though he probably would’ve shrugged it off with a grin and a smart ass joke. That was him.

Today, we gather to honor and celebrate the life of my brother Michael Benjamin Epperson. He was many things to many people. A providing husband, a proud father, a loving son, and a protective brother. But to me, he was more than just my older brother. He was hands down my... Read more best friend.

My brother, Mike, was a big man — and not just in stature. He was strong, proud, and full of life. But even more than that, he had one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known. He’d give you the shirt off his back, his last dollar, or his time — whatever you needed — without hesitation. If you were in trouble, Mike would show up. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the night or across the state — he’d be there. He never wanted credit or attention for it either. Helping people was just in his nature. That’s who he was at his core — selfless, loyal, and full of love for the people he cared about.

He lived his life for others — his family, his friends, his crew, his brothers and sisters in fire. He didn’t do it for attention or recognition; that wasn’t his style. He was never one to brag, even though he had every reason to. He worked his way from the ground up to become a Battalion Chief with the U.S. Forest Service — a career that spanned over sixteen years of dedication, sacrifice, and courage. Mike gave his heart and soul to his work. He ran toward the dangers most would run away from. He led with quiet confidence, with intelligence, with heart, and with a deep sense of responsibility for his people. He embodied the kind of strength that earned the respect of everyone around him. He carried that weight because he cared about his people. That’s the kind of leader he was.

As proud as he was of his career, his greatest pride was his family and all of us who were lucky enough to be part of his life. His wife, Shanna, and his daughter, Payton, were his world. Everything he did — every fire he fought, every long shift he pulled — he did it for them. The way he loved them was something special, and something I’ll never forget.

Mike wasn’t necessarily a man of faith, but he was certainly a man of values. He believed in loyalty, hard work, and standing up for the people you love — even if it meant standing alone. He lived wild, free, and full of life. He was stubborn and a little crazy in the best way possible. The kind of crazy that made life fun, that made stories worth telling, and that made everyone around him wonder what’s next — but that’s what made him unforgettable.

Mike loved the outdoors — camping, hiking, fishing, and hunting. He enjoyed smoking cigars, pumping iron, and conquering mountains, both literally and figuratively. He was constantly pushing himself, he found pleasure in pain and conquering hard shit. And of course, he loved slamming some whiskey, which usually landed him in the dog house. But even then, he’d find a way to laugh about it later.

For me, Mike was more than just my brother. He was my best friend. My idol. My compass. My brother in every sense of the word. Growing up, I wanted to be just like him — and honestly, I still do. He was larger than life — someone I looked up to, someone who taught me what it meant to be strong, to stand up for what matters, and to love your family fiercely.

We had times in our lives where we went our separate ways — he was out building his career, and I was off in the military and college, just starting mine. But life brought us back together here, in Sierra Vista. And those last six years…I’ll never take them for granted. They were the best years we could have asked for. Our families grew together. We spent weekends camping, barbecuing, watching our kids grow up side by side, and just enjoying the simple things. We got closer than we’d ever been. The laughter, the chaos, But the memories — those are what I’ll carry with me forever.

My brother had this gift — he could make you laugh when you didn’t want to. He could piss you off and make you love him all in the same sentence. He had the worst nicknames for everyone — God, they were awful. So creative, so random, but they were his way of showing you that you mattered to him.

He wasn’t perfect — none of us are — but he was real. And in this world, that’s rare. He gave everything he had to the people and things he loved.

He left us far too soon — just 39 years old, with so much life left to live. But in those years, he lived more fully than most do in a lifetime. He made an impact that will never fade. His laughter, his strength, and his love will live on in all of us — in the stories we tell, in the lessons he taught us, and in the lives he touched.

If there’s one thing I hope we can all take away from today, it’s this — life can be taken from us far sooner than we ever expect. None of us are promised tomorrow. So don’t wait to do the things you’ve always wanted to do. Take that trip. Go on that adventure. Visit that friend you haven’t seen in too long. Call the people you love and tell them what they mean to you. Make the memories — because in the end, that’s what truly matters.

Don’t get so caught up in work or the stress of everyday life that you forget to actually live. Take that time off. Go on that vacation. Laugh more. Hug your family tighter. Be present. Because if Mike’s life taught us anything, it’s that time is precious — and the best way to honor him is to live fully, love deeply, and make every moment count.

To My Brother!

When this storm passes we will gather to spread your ashes in the mountains you loved. The mountains were where you found purpose, where you fought fire, and where you found peace. In that wild beauty, your spirit will always remain.

You will be missed more than words can ever express. I will miss you every single day. I’ll miss your advice, your guidance, your dark humor, the way you challenged me, and even how you knew exactly how to push my buttons. But most of all, I’ll miss my best friend. There’s a hole in my heart that will never fully heal. But I take comfort in knowing you’re finally at peace — free, unburdened, and watching over us.

Thank you for being my brother. Thank you for teaching me what it means to live with courage, loyalty, and love. Thank you for shaping me into the man I am today. I promise to carry your strength and your memory with me for the rest of my life.

You will always be with me. In the mountains you loved. In the laughter of our kids. In every story we tell about you. In every time I need strength — I’ll hear your voice, I’ll feel your presence, and I’ll remember the man you were.

So today, we will not only mourn you— we will celebrate you. We will celebrate the life you lived, the love you gave, the example you set, and the fire you carried inside.

Your name, your spirit, and your legacy will live on.

Fly high, brother. You’ve earned your rest.

I’ll see you again in the mountains, Where the Eagles soar.

I Love You 🤍

Before I wrap this up, I want to do something Mike would’ve definitely approved of — let’s raise a shot glass.

To my Brother—a man who lived fully, loved fiercely, and somehow made life more fun for everyone around him.

We’ll carry your spirit in every story, every adventure, and every mountain we climb.

Fly high, brother — and try not to raise too much hell up there.

Cheers 🍻 Read less

First, I want to thank everyone who’s here today.

A huge thank you to all the fire family and friends that have come together during this difficult time to help us make this Celebration of Life happen.

As most of you know we were supposed to be drinking beer and eating BBQ in the beautiful Chiricahua mountains but hurricane Mike decided to roll through so here we are.

On a serious note seeing so many people who loved my brother means more to me and my family than words can ever say. ... Read moreAll of you here today, from every part of his life, is proof of how deeply he touched this world. Mike would’ve been humbled by it — though he probably would’ve shrugged it off with a grin and a smart ass joke. That was him.

Today, we gather to honor and celebrate the life of my brother Michael Benjamin Epperson. He was many things to many people. A providing husband, a proud father, a loving son, and a protective brother. But to me, he was more than just my older brother. He was hands down my best friend.

My brother, Mike, was a big man — and not just in stature. He was strong, proud, and full of life. But even more than that, he had one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known. He’d give you the shirt off his back, his last dollar, or his time — whatever you needed — without hesitation. If you were in trouble, Mike would show up. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the night or across the state — he’d be there. He never wanted credit or attention for it either. Helping people was just in his nature. That’s who he was at his core — selfless, loyal, and full of love for the people he cared about.

He lived his life for others — his family, his friends, his crew, his brothers and sisters in fire. He didn’t do it for attention or recognition; that wasn’t his style. He was never one to brag, even though he had every reason to. He worked his way from the ground up to become a Battalion Chief with the U.S. Forest Service — a career that spanned over sixteen years of dedication, sacrifice, and courage. Mike gave his heart and soul to his work. He ran toward the dangers most would run away from. He led with quiet confidence, with intelligence, with heart, and with a deep sense of responsibility for his people. He embodied the kind of strength that earned the respect of everyone around him. He carried that weight because he cared about his people. That’s the kind of leader he was.

As proud as he was of his career, his greatest pride was his family and all of us who were lucky enough to be part of his life. His wife, Shanna, and his daughter, Payton, were his world. Everything he did — every fire he fought, every long shift he pulled — he did it for them. The way he loved them was something special, and something I’ll never forget.

Mike wasn’t necessarily a man of faith, but he was certainly a man of values. He believed in loyalty, hard work, and standing up for the people you love — even if it meant standing alone. He lived wild, free, and full of life. He was stubborn and a little crazy in the best way possible. The kind of crazy that made life fun, that made stories worth telling, and that made everyone around him wonder what’s next — but that’s what made him unforgettable.

Mike loved the outdoors — camping, hiking, fishing, and hunting. He enjoyed smoking cigars, pumping iron, and conquering mountains, both literally and figuratively. He was constantly pushing himself, he found pleasure in pain and conquering hard shit. And of course, he loved slamming some whiskey, which usually landed him in the dog house. But even then, he’d find a way to laugh about it later.

For me, Mike was more than just my brother. He was my best friend. My idol. My compass. My brother in every sense of the word. Growing up, I wanted to be just like him — and honestly, I still do. He was larger than life — someone I looked up to, someone who taught me what it meant to be strong, to stand up for what matters, and to love your family fiercely.

We had times in our lives where we went our separate ways — he was out building his career, and I was off in the military and college, just starting mine. But life brought us back together here, in Sierra Vista. And those last six years…I’ll never take them for granted. They were the best years we could have asked for. Our families grew together. We spent weekends camping, barbecuing, watching our kids grow up side by side, and just enjoying the simple things. We got closer than we’d ever been. The laughter, the chaos, But the memories — those are what I’ll carry with me forever.

My brother had this gift — he could make you laugh when you didn’t want to. He could piss you off and make you love him all in the same sentence. He had the worst nicknames for everyone — God, they were awful. So creative, so random, but they were his way of showing you that you mattered to him.

He wasn’t perfect — none of us are — but he was real. And in this world, that’s rare. He gave everything he had to the people and things he loved.

He left us far too soon — just 39 years old, with so much life left to live. But in those years, he lived more fully than most do in a lifetime. He made an impact that will never fade. His laughter, his strength, and his love will live on in all of us — in the stories we tell, in the lessons he taught us, and in the lives he touched.

If there’s one thing I hope we can all take away from today, it’s this — life can be taken from us far sooner than we ever expect. None of us are promised tomorrow. So don’t wait to do the things you’ve always wanted to do. Take that trip. Go on that adventure. Visit that friend you haven’t seen in too long. Call the people you love and tell them what they mean to you. Make the memories — because in the end, that’s what truly matters.

Don’t get so caught up in work or the stress of everyday life that you forget to actually live. Take that time off. Go on that vacation. Laugh more. Hug your family tighter. Be present. Because if Mike’s life taught us anything, it’s that time is precious — and the best way to honor him is to live fully, love deeply, and make every moment count.

To My Brother!

When this storm passes we will gather to spread your ashes in the mountains you loved. The mountains were where you found purpose, where you fought fire, and where you found peace. In that wild beauty, your spirit will always remain.

You will be missed more than words can ever express. I will miss you every single day. I’ll miss your advice, your guidance, your dark humor, the way you challenged me, and even how you knew exactly how to push my buttons. But most of all, I’ll miss my best friend. There’s a hole in my heart that will never fully heal. But I take comfort in knowing you’re finally at peace — free, unburdened, and watching over us.

Thank you for being my brother. Thank you for teaching me what it means to live with courage, loyalty, and love. Thank you for shaping me into the man I am today. I promise to carry your strength and your memory with me for the rest of my life.

You will always be with me. In the mountains you loved. In the laughter of our kids. In every story we tell about you. In every time I need strength — I’ll hear your voice, I’ll feel your presence, and I’ll remember the man you were.

So today, we will not only mourn you— we will celebrate you. We will celebrate the life you lived, the love you gave, the example you set, and the fire you carried inside.

Your name, your spirit, and your legacy will live on.

Fly high, brother. You’ve earned your rest.

I’ll see you again in the mountains, Where the Eagles soar.

I Love You 🤍

Before I wrap this up, I want to do something Mike would’ve definitely approved of — let’s raise a shot glass.

To my Brother—a man who lived fully, loved fiercely, and somehow made life more fun for everyone around him.

We’ll carry your spirit in every story, every adventure, and every mountain we climb.

Fly high, brother — and try not to raise too much hell up there.

Cheers 🍻 Read less