No headstones break the surface, no boundary wall marks its extent, and nothing in the ordinary appearance of the land gives any indication that the dead were once laid to rest there. The graveyard survives, if that is the right word, only as an absence.

The site sits beside the ruined church at Ballylarkin, and its disappearance was already complete by the time anyone thought to write it down. Ordnance Survey correspondence from 1839, later published by O'Flanagan, recorded that the ruin stood in the middle of a potato field cultivated right up to its walls, implying that the graveyard had gone out of use long before that. The local historian Carrigan, writing in 1905, was more direct: the field having been under continuous cultivation, he noted, the graveyard was simply obliterated. Some confirmation of what lay beneath came during repair works carried out by the Office of Public Works in 1931 and 1932, when human bones were found both inside the church and in the ground immediately outside it. Those bones were effectively the only remaining evidence that a burial ground had ever existed there at all.