No headstone, no boundary wall, no depression in the turf marks the spot today, yet the site was real enough to be recorded on the Ordnance Survey six-inch maps, those meticulous nineteenth-century documents that catalogued Ireland's landscape in a period before so much of it was quietly rearranged.

The burial ground at Graigue was rectangular in plan, measuring approximately twenty metres along its east-west axis and ten metres north to south, a modest but purposeful enclosure. It belongs to a category of site known in Irish as a cillín, an informal or unconsecrated burial ground used historically for unbaptised children, suicides, and others who, under Catholic practice, could not be interred in sanctified ground. These places were typically unassuming and situated at the margins of settled life, near old boundaries, laneways, or the edges of townlands, which made them vulnerable to agricultural change, development, and simple forgetting. At Graigue, the transition of the land to a golf course appears to have been the final act in the erasure of any surface trace, leaving only the cartographic evidence to confirm that something was once deliberately placed and bounded here.