There is nothing to see at the spot today, no upright slab, no stump, no socket hollow in the earth, and yet the stone is documented with some precision: it appeared on the Ordnance Survey's six-inch map of 1842, positioned just outside the northern bank of an adjacent ringfort, the kind of enclosed circular settlement, typically defined by an earthen bank and ditch, that is one of the most familiar features of the early medieval Irish landscape.

By the late nineteenth century, the stone was already gone. Writing in 1898, a researcher named Murphy noted that it had been broken up roughly twenty years prior, placing its destruction somewhere around the 1870s or 1880s. It was one of a pair of stones associated with the area, and the fate of both appears to have been the same. The casual phrasing, broken up, suggests practical reuse rather than deliberate erasure, the kind of quiet attrition that has claimed countless prehistoric and early medieval field monuments across Ireland, particularly during the agricultural intensification of the nineteenth century.

What remains is essentially a cartographic ghost. The 1842 map recorded the stone's presence, Murphy recorded its absence, and the ground itself offers no confirmation either way. The ringfort it once stood beside survives as a separate monument, but the standing stone exists now only as a pair of coordinates and a note in the record.