It had already led a diminished existence by then, its terminals broken, its arms slightly curved at the angles, the whole thing reduced to what Crawford, writing in 1907, described as the upper part of a plain Latin cross measuring thirty inches in length. A Latin cross, in this context, is the familiar form with a longer vertical shaft than horizontal arm, as opposed to the equal-armed Greek variety. Plain is the operative word here: no knotwork, no figural carving, no inscription. Just cut sandstone, worn by age and, it seems, by handling.

The cross's fortunes had been declining for some time before it disappeared entirely. When the antiquarian Windele visited the site in the mid-nineteenth century, he found the brown stone cross resting on the covering slab of a feature known as St Molaga's Bed, a saint's tomb associated with Molaga, an early Irish monastic figure who gave his name to the locality of Labbamolaga. By 1852, Windele recorded that the cross had already been injured and shortened since a previous visit, suggesting it had suffered damage sometime in the intervening years. The site itself sits within an early medieval ecclesiastical complex, a type of settlement pattern common across early Christian Ireland, where a founder saint's tomb would remain a focus for veneration long after the original community had dissolved. The cross, wherever it stood at any given moment, was part of that accumulated layering of memory and devotion.

By 1995, Dúchas, the National Monuments and Historic Properties Service, confirmed the cross was still present at the site. Two years later, it was gone. Whether it was removed for safekeeping, stolen, or simply lost during some disturbance of the ground is not recorded. What remains is the church ruin, the saint's tomb, and the absence where the cross once leaned.