The building itself is gone, dismantled in the early twentieth century, its fabric carted away and incorporated into agricultural structures in the neighbouring townland of Gaggan. What remains at Cashel Commons is almost nothing, and yet the land remembers: locals still call it "the church field".

The site sits on a gentle south-east-facing slope, and the rectangular platform on which the church once stood is still legible as a terrace in the ground, measuring roughly 28 metres along its longer axis and defined by a scarp to the south-east and north-east, with the slope cut away to the north-west. A small section of what was once an enclosing wall, a low boundary that would have defined the sacred precinct around the building, survives embedded in a field fence to the south-west, its original run now just three metres long. The church itself was already recorded on the Ordnance Survey six-inch map of 1842, suggesting a building of some standing before its eventual demolition. When the stones were removed, they were given a second life as building material, a common enough fate in rural Ireland, where dressed or worked stone was too useful to leave in a field simply because it had once formed a wall of worship.

What makes the site quietly absorbing is the gap between the thoroughness of the erasure and the persistence of local memory. No walls stand, no arch survives, no carved stonework remains in situ. Yet the terrace is still visible underfoot, the scarp lines still hold their shape in the slope, and the name of the field continues to mark the ground as something set apart.