the weeping song

I have been visiting, photographing and blogging about cemeteries for twenty years. Being a taphophile (yep, there's even a name for it!) is not easy. Aside from the odd looks and cocked heads often received when my little "hobby" is revealed in conversation, the actual act of visiting a cemetery takes a fair amount of preparation. Despite my best efforts of mapping out an efficient and accurate plan for a particular cemetery excursion, I often find myself wandering around in dizzying circles trying to find a specific burial plot. Most cemeteries are poorly marked. Some are difficult to navigate. Even the invaluable website Find A Grave falls short in pinpointing accurate GPS coordinates. I'm not blaming anyone. Sometimes my own carelessness results in missed opportunities. I will peruse the Find A Grave entry for a cemetery from which I recently explored, only to find that I was mere feet from a grave that I should have added to my original agenda.

At the end of 2024, I set out early on a Saturday morning to visit four — count 'em four! — cemeteries in Delaware and Chester Counties, the first one about an hour's drive from my house and the others further south. I spent the entire day wandering and crisscrossing my hand-drawn map, as well as consulting Find A Grave on my cellphone until the battery indictor warned me it was time for a recharge. I was relatively successful in three of my four destinations. I spent way too much time at Oaklands Cemetery in West Goshen Township aimlessly searching for the grave of Miami Dolphin's celebrated kicker Garo Yepremian, who is allegedly interred on the grounds.... somewhere. Exasperated, I angrily sped off to my next destination — Longwood Cemetery, located just across the street from sprawling Longwood Gardens, a well-known and well-visited tourist spot in the Philadelphia area. (I've never been there.)

I had hoped to find the grave of author/poet/orator Bayard Taylor, who has called Longwood Cemetery his eternal home since the winter of 1878. The Taylor Family plot is — curiously — the only plot at Longwood that is fenced in. I took phots of Taylor's monument and that of his brother Charles. Then, without a second glance, I followed the narrow paved road out of the cemetery and back onto Route 1. It wasn't until I got home that I started kicking myself.

Aside from chronicling the graves of famous (and not-so-famous) people, I like to see unusual or interesting monuments that family members have commissioned mark the graves of departed loved ones. I've seen headstones shapes like Mickey Mouse. I've seen laser-etched portraited of the deceased. I've seen musical instruments or the logo of a favorite sports team sandblasted into the granite of the grave marker of a guitarist, pianist or rabid Eagles fan (Go Birds!) Other graves have sported elaborate sculptures, like the elegant but melancholy figure that graces the plot of Broadway impresario Florenz Ziegfeld and his wife, actress Billie Burke or the bronze woman that sits as a silent sentinel at the gravesite of Civil War general Samuel Thomas. Of course, there's the striking likeness of entertainer Al Jolson, down on one knee beneath an enormous mosaic dome and multilevel waterfall that can easily be seen by cars speeding along the 405 in Culver City, California.

In 1894, renowned sculptor William Wetmore Story created a memorial to be placed upon the grave of his beloved wife Emelyn. The sculpture depicts a life-size female angel in a palpable state of anguish. Her head is down, resting on her right forearm while her left arm is extended outwards, the hand drooping lazily, weakened with sorrow. The figure's greatly detailed wings are slightly collapsed and drawn, creating a comforting refuge under which the distraught angel unashamedly expresses her deep heartbreak. The sculpture is formally titled "The Angel of Grief Weeping Over the Dismantled Altar of Life," but it is known among taphophiles as "The Angel of Grief" or "The Weeping Angel." Story's original is located in Rome, but it has been reproduced — in various forms, using various materials — all over the world. There's one on the campus of Stamford University, placed in memory of Jane Stamford, co-founder of the university. There are three different versions at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn. The one at  Prairie Lea Cemetery in Texas sports a mane of long flowing hair that obscures the figure's face. I was fortunate enough to see a Weeping Angel at the locked mausoleum that houses the remains of New Orleans philanthropist Chapman Hyams in Metairie, Louisiana. I managed to get a profile photo through the tinted window of the building's shackled doors. I snapped another through a small break in the stained glass on the structure's side. 

On the great lawn of  the Sunny Slope section of Inglewood Park in California, the grave of Mary Ertl, one of the first women to practice medicine in Los Angeles, is marked by a figure that is obviously inspired by Story's original. I have become fascinated by this sculpture. It is beautiful, filled with emotion and elegance and at the same time.... a little creepy.

So, when I returned home from Longwood Cemetery, I was disappointed to discover that there is a Weeping Angel that I missed. Longwood Cemetery is not that big. I was there to see the grave of Bayard Taylor. Once I got the pictures I wanted, I just left. I didn't even think to look around. (I will never do that again. I have learned my lesson.) Had I just looked around — even just a quick glance — I would have spotted the ethereal glow of white marble visible above the gamut of identical gray headstones on the far side of the property.

Yesterday, Mrs. Pincus and I attended a swim meet at West Chester University. No, I didn't just develop an interest in collegiate water sports. We were there to show support for Mrs. P's cousin who is a member of the Salisbury University squad (Go Gulls!), the visiting adversaries at this particular contest. After the day's aquatic activities, we headed south to pick up where I left off two year's prior. Longwood Cemetery ho!

Mrs. P maneuvered her car onto the narrow roadway that snaked through the cemetery. I craned my neck and squinted my eyes to survey the grounds. As we passed the familiar Bayard Taylor family plot, I could see the unmistakable shape of a Weeping Angel at the far end of the cemetery overlooking Route 1. Mrs. P navigated her way to the closest walkway and I hopped out of the car, barely waiting for her to apply the brakes. I beat a direct path to the monument and stared for a moment or two before I reached for my cellphone to take some photos. This version is much smaller than the original and both arms are folded under to support — and conceal — the figure's face. Still, I find myself captivated by this sculpture. It is eerily realistic. I got an uneasy feeling that it could move on its own, possibly lifting its head to reveal an expression of sorrow and cheeks stained with tears of grief. I stared until I caught myself staring, so I began to take pictures. I circled around the figure several times, taking pictures from every angle. I also took photos of a smaller, though vaguely similar, marker located on a plot just a foot or so behind.

The grave marked by the Weeping Angel is that of Blair Aryn Ciallella who passed away in 2007 at the age of 19. According to her obituary, Blair was remembered for "her perpetual smile, her kindness, her warm and giving spirit, her easy laughter and her decency which never wavered." In the plot marked with the smaller angel rests Blair's sister Bryse, who died in May of 2020 at the age of 34. Although her obituary is not specific, donations in her memory are requested to made to a "frontline organization helping in the fight against coronavirus." I can only surmise that she was an early, pre-vaccination victim of the disease. Adjacent to Bryse's plot is the recent grave of Blair and Bryse's mother, Susan. The plot, covered in bleached, dry dirt, validates the May 2026 burial. Susan was just 67. 

I usually reserve my cemetery visits for the famous, infamous and unsung, but a Weeping Angel is hard to ignore. And in this case, very apropos.

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HERE are the cemeteries I've visited.

Like the Weeping Angel as much as I do? Get a t-shirt HERE.

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