Imagine a crisp, autumn day when the sun’s rays are falling on leaves that carpet the ground in red and gold. There’s no better day than this to visit a cemetery—it is likely to beckon even the library-bound genealogist to walk and to reflect.

But the true value of a cemetery visit lies beyond an appreciation of the aesthetics of a headstone and graveyard. Cemeteries play a significant role in genealogical research. Gravestones are an immediate and generally reliable source of information about our ancestors. Of course, gravestones contain discrepancies, just as public records do. You might find that the names of individuals buried in a plot are not included on the headstone, or that a name is carved on a headstone when the individual is buried elsewhere. And frequently, the information that is not carved on a gravestone is more important than what appears. The stories gravestones tell or don’t tell can be a major help in moving your genealogical research forward.

If I could have located a death certificate for Philip Dearborn, I would have been able to learn his parents’ names, complete another generation on my family history chart and more easily find his grave in a cemetery. Unfortunately, the city directory contained no reference to his relocation to another city or state. The fact that I never found a death record has left me wondering whether he came to this country at all, or whether a brother by the same name came with my great-great-grandfather instead. And it has certainly impacted my cemetery research. (Think of all that lost time!)

It is also important to pay special attention to old records when locating cemeteries, even if the cemeteries initially seem to have questionable significance or obscure directions. The tiny historical cemeteries throughout the Northeast and in other parts of the country are frequently given numbers rather than names, unlike larger cemeteries or churchyards, but they can hold astonishing discoveries.

The cemetery records office often holds the missing pieces of the genealogical puzzle through its records, and it can provide particulars regarding a death. These records are the final link to information regarding the individual buried in a specific grave. Records generally include dates of burial and interment, full names of the deceased, including dates of birth, names of those buried together, the number of individuals buried together in any given plot and how many unused spots remain, names of the next of kin, the identity of the individual who originally purchased the plot, and perpetual care arrangements. The records might also include cause of death, place of birth, the name of the individual who erected the headstone, and other facts that might have potential value.

Names are easier to trace in public records if you know the area in which a family lived. Some families have lived in the same state for generations, which usually means that one need go no further than the state line to find birth, death, and marriage records. When this is the case, it also increases the likelihood that relatives from previous generations are buried nearby.

Once you have established the place of death, you can find the vital statistics record, which will give the names of the deceased individual’s parents (if they are known by the relative who provided the information). You might also learn other facts regarding the deceased, such as date and place of birth, address, occupation, cause of death, and information about a spouse, if married.

The cemetery office can be of help in many other ways as well. It is very confusing to try to locate a grave in a large cemetery, even if it is one you have visited previously. The office record keeper can give precise directions to the gravesite. You can usually learn the location of a grave before going to the cemetery by talking with relatives. But if no one is available to ask, a newspaper obituary will have burial information. The death certificate will give you an approximate idea of when an obituary might have run.

In the process of researching, progress in vital statistics records can be stymied by family members with the same name, particularly if the name is a common one. Finding two Nathaniel Browns, for example, can be completely bewildering when they are both married to women named Mary. A birth index will list children born to Nathaniel and Mary Brown. But if both men with identical names lived in the same town, this will be more confusing than helpful, especially if they were alive during the period before city directories were published.

Often, information from the cemetery office can clarify such confusion. The mother’s maiden name will generally appear in the records, allowing you to match children with the correct parents and carry on with your research.

But the most intriguing cemetery excursion I ever made was to the gravesite of my great-grandmother, who died twenty-five years before I was born. My mother, who accompanied me, had been an infant when her grandmother died, but her mother had taken her to visit the grave. She remembered the burial spot being close to the fence surrounding the small cemetery. The grave had never been marked with a headstone. Until this moment, my mother had never questioned the reason. This was surprising because the family had not been poor and had regarded Grandma Barnes with great affection.

A surprise awaited us at the gravesite. As we read the headstones along the fence, we were amazed to come upon a small stone that read only, "Mother," and beneath it, "Mother of A. Barnes." Clearly this was Grandma Barnes’ grave, but my mother had never seen the stone before.

Upon inquiring at the office, we learned that the stone had been erected a dozen years earlier by Uncle Ernest, Grandma Barnes’ youngest son who had since died—hence the inscription. Not only did the information explain how the stone had come to be, but it also told us about the character of Uncle Ernest. From what we could deduce, he decided during the final years of his life that his mother’s grave should not go unmarked. He had paid for perpetual care of the site, but he told no family member of his decision.

Yet one mystery remained. We had no idea why her full identity was not included on the stone. It wasn’t until we told my grandmother of our visit to her mother-in-law’s grave that we learned why no headstone had been erected at the time of death. Several years after her arrival in America, Grandma remarried. But the marriage was a failure from the start. The couple parted quietly, and Grandma Barnes resumed the life she had lived previously. My grandmother vividly remembered hearing her declare that she did not want the name of "that rotter" to follow her to the grave.

That explained why I had never been able to locate Grandma Barnes’ death record among vital statistics records in the town where she had lived and died, even though I always knew where she had been buried. She had died under the name of Blackburn, her second husband. The marriage had been so brief that few people remembered she had remarried, and some never knew, but the impersonal, official record books retained her legal name. Fortunately, the cemetery records cross-referenced her name with her son’s, who had arranged a clever way of erecting a headstone without using her name. The experience served as a reminder to me that there is often a logical explanation for records that cannot be located.

In addition to leaving extra space on the headstone, empty spaces frequently remain in cemetery plots as well. Families began to purchase larger cemetery plots four or five generations ago because they had large families. For instance, in a Catholic cemetery where diocese records indicated that eleven family members were buried together, I found nothing but a large, bare patch of ground at the designated spot. No headstone had been erected, despite the size of the plot. My great-great-great-grandfather had been a French-Canadian immigrant with twelve children, ten of whom died before him. Causes of death had varied: a daughter died of consumption, a son died of lung cancer (according to its 1880 definition), and another had been "run over by a car," according to the death certificate. On further inspection, I learned that this son had been a brakeman for the railroad. Their father’s 104-year life spanned two centuries and included three wives. With so many children, so much loss, and so little money, the burial plot had filled rapidly but had never been marked.

On another occasion, I found a surprise at the grave of my great-great-grandparents who had come to America from Germany. Although their names were the only ones engraved on the headstone, they were buried, as was common, with their youngest child, a daughter who had died in old age many years after others of her generation. No close relative survived her to see that her name was added to the stone. I was startled to learn from cemetery officials, however, that buried in the same plot was a man named Edward Fanning, a name completely unfamiliar to those in the present generation.

Information about those interred in the same burial plot is a quick way to ascertain which family members emigrated together. While you might know that your Great-aunt Margaret came to America from Scotland as an adult, for example, you might never have been told that her parents came with her. If they were all buried in the same plot, you would find the information about your great-grandparents in death records.

Or if six names are listed on a stone, two parents and four children, for instance, but only five are buried in the plot, it might be an indication that the missing sibling moved away from the area, especially if the date of birth is a hundred years old or more. Remembering this will save time and trouble when seeking a death certificate for someone who might have died in another state.

You may also discover on the headstone the names of some, if not all, of the couple’s children, some of whom will probably be buried with them. It is not uncommon when inquiring within a cemetery office to find infants buried with their parents; frequently, a plot was purchased for the burial of the first infant who did not survive, and who was to be joined by other siblings and the parents at the end of their lives. One grave in my family contains my great-grandparents, their son and his wife, and two children who died in infancy. The stone does not list the names and dates of the infants because they died too soon after birth to have been named.

Sometimes you will find a thoughtful inscription on the stone that reveals an insight into relationships or interests. When my mother-in-law was considering engravings for her husband’s headstone, she selected etchings of a gun and a pond to reflect her husband’s love of rifles and her love of gardening. One peaceful garden cemetery in the Northeast contains a round, ebony marker with a stunning image of a motorcyclist riding into the sunset, along with a tragically premature date of death.

Occasionally the name on a headstone, particularly an immigrant’s, will be different from the individual’s given name at birth. My German great-grandmother was always called Anna, and that name appeared on her gravestone and on her marriage and death certificates. It was only in a letter from an elderly aunt—her granddaughter—that I learned her real name was Koleda. When she came to America, she worked as a domestic for a family with children who could not pronounce her given name; so she changed her name to Anna, and the name remained with her throughout her life.

One remarkable feature of old gravestones is that the engraver sometimes failed to leave sufficient room for the name. On these old headstones, you will frequently see that the carver was forced to use small, raised letters to fit the surname on the narrow stone. The trend in more recent generations has been to leave plenty of space for the names of family members who might join those who died before them.

It is always wise to confirm headstone dates with public records. Even though the dates are "carved in stone," they can still be incorrect. My grandmother’s date of birth, for example, was etched incorrectly on her headstone and was never changed by the family, who were too grief-stricken by her unexpected death to make arrangements for a correction. As time passed, the urgency to correct the mistake faded, and it was never changed.

Visits to cemeteries can also be a way of learning more about the personal life of an ancestor. On a hunch, I asked a great-uncle at a family gathering if he recognized the name of the man buried with my great-grandmother Trudy. (The one whose name had never been added to her parents’ gravestone.) He responded with laughter. "Oh, yes, that was her boyfriend," he said. Another victim of a failed marriage, Trudy had been married briefly to a man whose name soon disappeared from the city directories. Her husband had run off or they had divorced; either way it was scandalous in its time and not talked about, so my uncle never knew the details.

With the mention of Edward Fanning, my uncle suddenly remembered that Trudy had kept a parrot, had played the piano, and had run a boarding house. In this and so many other cases, bringing up details triggered memories and allowed revelations to spring forth, which perpetuated stories that would have otherwise been lost to obscurity and silenced beneath a headstone.

Keep cemeteries in mind when tracing your family history. They offer the final insight into our ancestors’ lives—the picture that remains when the essence is gone. You will find in your own study of headstones and gravesites that they not only contain enlightening information, but that the details in cemetery records are often revealing and can give you the direction you need to continue your search.