Cemeteries are meant to be permanent places of remembrance, but history shows that isn’t always the case.
As cities grow and land becomes more valuable, burial grounds are sometimes neglected, relocated, or even erased. It’s a reminder that the places around us are constantly changing, and that some stories can easily be lost if no one takes the time to document them.
That’s what drew me to the work of cemetery photographer and writer Ed Snyder. I’ve been following Snyder on Instagram for a while, and I’ve also enjoyed reading his blog, The Cemetery Traveler. I even included his blog in a previous post about some of my favourite cemetery bloggers.
So, when I heard that he had released a new book, Abandoned and Forgotten Cemeteries of Philadelphia and its Environs, I was excited to check it out.
“Since its inception, Philadelphia has created spaces for its dead. Some still exist, but many are gone or have been neglected and teeter on the edge of oblivion. Between 1850 and 1950, cemeteries across the nation disappeared as cities grew—developers wanted the land. Accompanied by Snyder’s photographs, the reader is taken through Philadelphia and surrounding areas, examining cemeteries of all sizes and eras—many that were destroyed in the name of progress.”
Published in 2025, as part of the America Through Time series, the book explores cemeteries in and around Philadelphia that have been abandoned, neglected, or even erased over time. Snyder explains that as cities expanded between 1850 and 1950, many cemeteries across the United States disappeared as developers sought land for growing communities.1
The book takes readers on a tour of these forgotten places.
Some of the stories are surprising, including a graveyard that now sits beneath a playground, tombstones discovered in the Delaware River, and an abandoned burial ground hidden in the woods. While some stories are frustrating, others are encouraging. In a few cases, volunteers have stepped in to restore them.
Of course, the highlight of the book is the photography.
Snyder’s full colour images are beautiful and really help tell the story of each cemetery. The photos show both the beauty of these places and the reality of their condition. It’s obvious that he cares about documenting them before they disappear completely. Snyder approaches each one with curiosity and respect, which makes the book enjoyable even if you’re not already familiar with Philadelphia’s cemetery history.
Overall, Abandoned and Forgotten Cemeteries of Philadelphia and its Environs is a great read for anyone who enjoys history or has an interest in cemeteries. If you like forgotten places, local history, and cemetery photography, I think it’s worth adding to your reading list.
I am always on the hunt for cemetery-related book recommendations. If you are an author and have a cemetery-related book you would like me to review, please reach out at hello@chantallarochelle.ca. I would love to hear from you!
Some stories stay with you for a long time. Pamela Harvey’s story was one of those, for me.
For decades, Pamela was one of Sudbury’s missing persons. Her name appeared on lists of unsolved cases and in newspaper articles. Her family spent years wondering what happened and hoping that one day they would finally know the truth.
After 47 years, that answer finally came.
Who Was Pamela Harvey?
Before Pamela Harvey became known as one of Sudbury’s missing persons, she was a daughter, a sister, a mother, and someone who loved adventure.
Pam, as her family called her, was born and raised in McKellar, Ontario. She was independent, headstrong, and always looking for new adventures.1 Shortly after turning 18, she moved west to British Columbia, where she met Richard “Rick” Rousseau.1 The couple later welcomed their son, Ricky, but after their relationship ended, Pam returned to Ontario to raise her son closer to family.1
Back in Ontario, Pam worked as a waitress in Parry Sound before moving to Sudbury in 1977.1 Her family described her as bright, full of personality, and easy to befriend.1 She worked hard to support her young son and build a life for the two of them.1
In Sudbury, Pam lived with little Ricky in an apartment on Lloyd Street and worked at the Kingsway Hotel.1 She was a devoted mother, so when her sister Cate received a call that Ricky had been left in someone else’s care and that Pam was gone, the family immediately knew something was wrong.1
Pam’s family travelled to Sudbury to bring Ricky home and try to figure out what had happened. When they entered her apartment, they found her clothing, jewellery, and other personal belongings still there.1 To them, it did not look like Pam had simply walked away from her life.1
Pam was officially reported missing by her father, Gerald Harvey, on Christmas Day, 1978.1 She was only 23 years old.
For decades, her family lived with unanswered questions about what had happened to her.
Unsolved
Over the years, questions remained about whether Pam may have known something connected to a violent incident that happened in Sudbury around the same time she disappeared.1 There were also questions about whether Pam may have witnessed a murder. Without knowing what happened to her, it remained one of the many unanswered questions surrounding her case.1
I had the opportunity to work with local author Sarah May on her book Unsolved Sudbury, which featured Pam’s story. At the book launch, her son and other family members attended. It was amazing to have them there, but it was also heartbreaking. It was clear how much Pam was missed, and how large a space she had left behind in their family and their hearts.
One of the hopes behind the book was that by continuing to share these stories, new information might come forward and help bring answers to families who had been waiting for them.
Unsolved Sudbury: Missing, Murdered, Unexplained. by Sarah May.
Identified
After nearly five decades of questions and uncertainty, there was finally a breakthrough in the case.
In March 1979, the body of an unidentified woman was discovered in St-Eustache, Quebec.2 Investigators determined that she had been the victim of a homicide, but her identity had remained unknown for decades.2
Although forensic technology was limited at the time, evidence collected during the original investigation was carefully preserved.2 In 2026, a collaborative effort between the Sûreté du Québec, the Greater Sudbury Police Service, the Québec Coroner’s Office, and the Laboratoire de sciences judiciaires et de médecine légale used modern forensic methods, including DNA analysis, to identify the woman as Pamela Harvey.2
After decades of uncertainty, Pam’s family finally had some answers.
Although 47 years had passed, the evidence that helped identify Pam had been carefully preserved. It is a powerful reminder that preserving stories matters. The details we save today can help bring someone’s story back into the light years later.
When I read the news, I immediately thought back to that book launch and to Pam’s family. I thought about all the years they had spent hoping and looking for answers. Nothing can undo that kind of loss, but there is something meaningful about finally being able to give a name back to a person who had been unknown for so long.
It was a bright and sunny day when I visited Lakeview Cemetery. The rural cemetery was quiet, and I wasn’t exactly sure where Pam was buried, so I walked the rows of headstones. I knew I was looking for a grey marker with two ceramic portraits on it.
After searching for a while, I spotted the stone in the distance. There was Pam’s face looking back at me.
Pam shares a gravestone with her father, Gerald, who passed away in 2015. Her mother, Yvonne, also has a place in the family plot and is still living. A ceramic portrait of Gerald and Yvonne sits beside the Harvey family name, while a portrait of Pam sits above her epitaph. It is the same portrait that was often used in the media when talking about her disappearance.
“Pamela Orlean Mar. 7, 1955 Always loved. Never forgotten”
Her death date is still blank.
If I had walked up the left side of the cemetery first, I would have seen the Harvey name engraved on the back of the stone. Instead, I came upon Pam’s portrait first.
It was really moving to visit her gravestone in person. For the longest time, the stone had been a cenotaph, a memorial to someone whose final resting place was unknown.
I don’t know if Pam will eventually be brought home to rest beside her father. I hope she will. But there’s something comforting about knowing where she is now, even if many questions about what happened to her, still remain.
There was one thought I couldn’t shake as I stood there. Pam had been found nearly fifty years ago, but no one knew it was her.
The advances in forensic technology are pretty amazing.
Evidence that was collected nearly 50 years ago was still there, waiting for the technology that could finally give Pam her name back. I hope we continue to hear more stories like this, where missing people are identified, and families finally get the chance to bring their loved ones home, and find some closure.
It feels a bit funny saying that, when things have already been pretty quiet here, but summer is short and I need to take advantage. Plus there are still so many stories I want to explore.
I’ve got a couple of road trips planned, plus some beach days sprinkled in between. I want to make sure I actually take a break. A bit of exploring, a bit of driving around, and a bit of doing absolutely nothing for once.
Yes, beach days mean I’ll probably have a book with me, but research can still be relaxing, right?
So, the blog will be quiet for about two weeks, but I’ll still be posting on social media like usual, and I’ll likely throw up a few reels here and there from whatever I get up to.
I’ll be back after the break with new photos and stories from what I find along the way.
I hope everyone gets a bit of time this summer to step away from routine and do something you enjoy.
If you have ever wandered through a cemetery with me, you already know I tend to slow right down. I look at everything. The lettering, the symbols, the little details that most people walk right past. It’s one part curiosity, and one part appreciation.
Gravestone rubbing is one of those things I have heard about for years but never actually tried, and after looking into it more, I don’t think I will. It always sounded kind of fun in theory. A little bit of history, a little bit of art. But once I started digging into it, I realized it might not be as harmless as it seems.
Gravestone rubbing is the process of placing paper over a headstone and gently rubbing it with charcoal, crayon, or graphite to capture the inscription and design underneath.1 The raised lettering and carvings transfer onto the paper, and the results can be surprisingly detailed.
The practice has been around for a long time and really took off in the 19th and 20th centuries as a way to record older or hard-to-read stones.2 It was especially popular with historians and genealogists trying to preserve inscriptions before they faded away.
One of the most well-known examples comes from Daniel and Jessie Lie Farber.3 Over several decades, they created thousands of gravestone rubbings between 1938 and 1969, documenting early American gravestone art in incredible detail. The Farber Gravestone Collection is still referenced today, and even without seeing the stones in person, you can get a real sense of how intricate and expressive these carvings can be. Some of the rubbings feel almost like artwork on their own, capturing not just names and dates, but patterns and symbolism that would otherwise be easy to miss.
Know Better, Do Better
This is where things get a little tricky.
Even though gravestone rubbing was once seen as helpful, it’s now widely frowned upon.
The biggest reason is pretty simple: it can cause damage.
Even a gentle rubbing puts pressure on the surface of a stone. Many older stones, especially ones made of slate, sandstone, or marble, are already fragile after years of weather exposure.4 When you add repeated rubbing into the mix, it can lead to flaking, cracking, or losing those fine details altogether.
A really good example of this is the Bean Puzzle Tombstone. It’s a unique and popular stone that has had a lot of hands on it over the years, including people doing rubbings.5 You can actually see how all that attention has added up over time.
Because of concerns like this, gravestone rubbing is now illegal in some U.S. states and restricted in others.6 In Canada, it’s not outright illegal, but many cemeteries have their own rules against it or require permission first.
Groups like Cemetery Conservators for United Standards have also spoken out about it.7 Their focus is on protecting these stones for the long term, which usually means limiting physical contact as much as possible.
Alternatives
The good news is you don’t have to miss out on those details.
One method I always find kind of clever is the mirror method. You use a mirror to reflect sunlight across the surface of the stone at an angle, which helps bring out the lettering and carvings.7 It’s simple, but it works. If you don’t have a mirror handy, even a flashlight can do the trick.
This is my go-to. You can capture everything you need without ever touching the stone. Changing your angle or adjusting the lighting can reveal details you might not have noticed at first glance.
The more I learn about cemetery practices, the more I realize how much things change over time. What once seemed like a good idea does not always hold up, especially when preservation is involved.
As much as I love the idea of gravestone rubbings, it’s not something I see myself trying.
For me, it always comes back to that same mindset I bring into every visit: respect the space and leave it as you found it. Do no harm.
There are so many ways to document and share these stories without causing damage. Sometimes all it takes is a little patience and a different way of looking at things.
April always makes me think of the Titanic. It’s hard not to, with the anniversary of that tragic sinking approaching. This year, I spent some time reading Titanic Victims in Halifax Graveyards, a book my mom found while thrifting. She’s always been fascinated by Titanic history, and after finishing it, she knew I would love it too, so she passed it along.
Written by Blair Beed and first published in 2001, this book is a deep dive into the stories of Titanic victims who ended up in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Beed, a Halifax resident, brings his experience as a tour guide and tourism professional to the page, giving the book both historical context and local insight.
“For eighty-five years dozens of victims of one of the most famous ships in history rested quietly in Halifax, Nova Scotia, until the 1997 film Titanic created a renewed interest in the burial sites. Visitors to Halifax have many questions about the city’s connection to the infamous ship. Of the 328 bodies found, why were some buried at sea? Why were 59 bodies sent elsewhere for burial and the rest buried in Halifax? Titanic Victims in Halifax Graveyards answers those questions while telling the intriguing and little-known story of the 150 passengers and crew who were buried in the port city of Halifax. Using official reports and newspaper articles, author Blair Beed provides an outline of life on board the Titanic, describes society as it was in 1912, and highlights the care for the dead taken by the crews of the recovery ships and those who met them on arrival in Halifax. This revised edition, with two new chapters and an updated design, is an important addition to any Titanic library.”
I love that my copy still had the receipt tucked inside. It was purchased at the Maritime Museum in Halifax, which houses many Titanic artifacts. It may seem odd, but I’ve kept the receipt with the book. It feels like a small, tangible connection to the city and the history it preserves.
The book is meticulously researched, walking readers through the victims’ stories with care and detail. It would make an excellent companion if you’re planning to visit the Halifax cemeteries, which I hope to do someday. I’d love to take my mom along too, since she shares my fascination with this history.
The details blew me away! From the recovery mission itself, to how every piece of clothing and even tattoos were documented to help identify the victims. I also appreciated how Beed organizes the book: part historical narrative, part cemetery guide, making it easy to follow the locations and stories of each burial site.
I absolutely loved this book. I’d recommend it to anyone interested in Titanic history, Halifax’s maritime past, or even just those with a morbid curiosity. It’s incredible to realize how much there is still to learn about this tragic event, even 114 years later.
Thanks for reading!
I am always on the hunt for cemetery-related book recommendations. If you are an author and have a cemetery-related book you would like me to review, please reach out at hello@chantallarochelle.ca. I would love to hear from you!
Some gravestones tell stories through symbols, epitaphs, or carvings. Others share something even sweeter.
Gravestone recipes are one of those rare connections between memory and tradition, offering a way to bring the past into your kitchen.
Fleda Jane Osburn Shearer’s sugar cookies are a perfect example. They were more than just cookies; they were a way to bring people together, share comfort, and create memories that last. Known affectionately by some as “Funeral Cookies,” Fleda often baked them for gatherings in Arkansas.1
Visitors to her grave can now sit at a bench engraved with her recipe and bake a batch themselves, keeping her warmth and hospitality alive.2
Fleda was born on March 5, 1934, and passed away on June 3, 2017, at the age of 83.3 One of the most memorable ways she touched her community was through her baking. Her sugar cookies were served at funerals, family gatherings, and casual visits alike.1
After she passed away, her family honoured her by placing the recipe for these cookies on a bench at her grave in Magness Cemetery in Heber Springs, Arkansas.² At her funeral, the cookies were served alongside lemonade beneath a large tree, just as she would have done in life.2 The bench near her grave even features a small starburst design, echoing the pattern she pressed into each cookie, inviting visitors to sit and remember her.2
The recipe engraved at Fleda’s grave is simple, classic, and delicious, exactly the kind of cookie that just melts on your tongue.
Gravestone recipe for Fleda’s sugar cookies. Photo credit: Jill Petracek
Here is the recipe, as engraved on the stone bench at her graveside:
Sugar Cookies
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup confectioners sugar
1 cup margarine
1 cup cooking oil
2 eggs
1 T vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. lemon extract (optional)
4 1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cream of tartar
1/4 tsp. Salt
Combine sugars, margarine & oil. Add eggs – stir in flavorings. Add all dry ingredients, mix well. Use 3/4 oz cookie scoop. Flatten with cookie press or glass dipped in sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 12-15 minutes. ENJOY!
In the Kitchen
These cookies were surprisingly simple to make, which honestly makes them even more special. The ingredients were basic and easy to pull together, which made the whole process feel really approachable. I did have to make one small substitution. I didn’t have lemon extract, so I used lemon zest instead.
Once everything was ready, the dough came together easily. There was nothing complicated about it, which made the process feel relaxed and enjoyable from the start.
Portioning the dough was a bit of a guessing game. I don’t have a cookie scoop, so I used a loose-leaf tea measuring spoon, which probably made my cookies larger than intended. They did spread quite a bit in the oven, so even though I spaced them out, some ended up touching. It wasn’t a big issue, just something to keep in mind if you try out this recipe.
One of my favourite parts was stamping the cookies. I didn’t have a decorative drinking glass at home, so I borrowed one from my mom that had a patterned base. I dipped it in sugar and used it to press each cookie before baking. It added such a fun and unique touch, and it’s an easy way to change up the look of the cookies depending on what you use.
I baked them for 12 minutes, which turned out to be just right. Nothing burned, which always feels like a win. Since it’s Easter weekend, I wanted to give them a bit of a spring feel. Since I didn’t have any yellow sanding sugar, I sprinkled a little extra lemon zest on top of the cookies after baking. It worked really well, and the helped the lemon flavour come through.
This recipe made a big batch. Even with making larger cookies, I ended up with about 40 cookies across four trays.
Right out of the oven, the cookies were soft, fluffy, and tender. They were lightly sweet without being overpowering, exactly what you want from a classic sugar cookie. The lemon flavour was not that noticeable when I had one straight out of the oven. But Later on, the lemon flavour became more pronounced.
I brought some of the cookies to a game night that same evening, and everyone agreed they were very tasty.
Overall, these are easy, comforting, and fun to make. I can absolutely see why they became such a meaningful part of Fleda’s legacy.
Gravestone recipes like Fleda’s show that memory can be sweet, simple, and deeply personal. Each batch of cookies is more than flour and sugar. It is a little piece of someone’s life and hospitality that can be enjoyed anywhere.
You can make the cookies at home, share them with family and friends, and continue a tradition of comfort and connection that Fleda started in her kitchen long ago.
Some cemeteries are small and quiet, tucked behind a church or hidden along a country road. Others are so large they feel more like cities for the dead. Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges in Montreal definitely falls into that second category.
Located on the slopes of Mount Royal, this cemetery is the largest in Canada and one of the largest in North America. With winding roads, towering monuments, and thousands of trees, it feels less like a cemetery and more like a historic park filled with stories.
Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges was founded in 1854 by the parish of Notre-Dame in Montreal. The first burial took place on May 29, 1855, for a 35-year-old Irish woman named Jane Gilroy.¹ Earlier cemeteries had been located near churches, but space and hygiene concerns, along with a 1853 city bylaw, forced a move to Mount Royal.1
Sitting on the mountain gives the cemetery symbolic meaning in Catholic tradition, representing hope for the promised resurrection. Surrounded by nature, it also offers a quiet place for reflection. Walking among the trees and winding paths, visitors can feel the combination of history, art, and natural beauty all at once, which also makes it a great spot for photography.
Today, Notre-Dame-Des-Neiges is recognized as the largest cemetery in Canada and the third largest in North America.²
The cemetery was designed during a time when burial grounds were being reimagined as peaceful landscapes rather than crowded churchyards. Its layout was influenced by the famous Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, with winding paths, scenic views, and carefully planned monuments.³
The cemetery also functions as a large natural park, with more than 13,500 trees spread across its grounds.3 Because of its historical, cultural, and artistic importance, the cemetery was designated a National Historic Site of Canada in 1999.5
Haunted
With a cemetery this old and this large, it probably comes as no surprise that there are plenty of ghost stories attached to it.
One of the most well-known spirits is that of Sarah Ellen Page King, also called Sadie. Witnesses say her grave site is haunted by the sounds of a woman and infant weeping and crying.6 Sadie’s story is a tragic one. After losing her infant son George, she was sent to the Saint-Jean-de-Dieu Lunatic Asylum, likely for depression, and remained there for 24 years until she died in 1946.6 Her family never visited or even acknowledged her, and when she was buried beside her son, no tombstone was placed in her memory.6
While other alleged spirits haunt the cemetery, Sadie’s story is the one most often told for its tragic and haunting presence.6
Whether you believe in ghosts or not, it’s easy to see how the atmosphere of such a large and historic place could spark a few spooky legends.
My Visit
I visited in July of last year while I was in Montreal with my fiancé. He had a tattoo appointment, which meant I had some time to myself.
Naturally, I decided to spend it wandering around the cemetery.
Before I arrived, I made a short list of graves I wanted to visit, including “The Rocket” Richard and La Bolduc.
Even with Google Maps to guide me, I still got completely turned around. At one point, I wandered over to the maintenance office just as a bus full of workers was about to head out for the workday. I asked them for directions to the main office, and they kindly offered me a ride. I accepted and took a seat near the front.
They were the grass crew heading out to cut grass and clean up weeds around the cemetery. I happened to be wearing a T-shirt with my logo on it, which sparked a few curious questions. When I told them I was a cemetery photographer, they seemed genuinely interested. Everyone was very kind, and after a short drive, they dropped me off at the main office before heading off to start their workday.
I always try to visit the cemetery office, when there is one, because you never know what kind of interesting things they might have. The office was fairly busy, so I didn’t want to take up too much of their time. I asked if they had any brochures or maps, and they were able to give me a few pamphlets and they had a small booklet for sale. The only booklet they had left was in French, but I happily bought it anyway, since my mother speaks French and could translate it for me later.
Booklet, map and pamphlet from Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges, Montreal QC
To say the cemetery is big is an understatement.
I spent several hours walking the grounds and still only saw a small portion of it. It also happened to be an extremely hot day, so I took plenty of breaks in shady spots to cool down and catch my breath.
I did not manage to visit every grave on my list, but that just means I will have to go back and explore another section of the cemetery.
Even after several hours of walking, I felt like I had only scratched the surface of Cimetière Notre-Dame-des-Neiges. The size alone makes it an adventure, and every path seems to lead to another interesting monument or historic grave.
Next time I visit Montreal, this cemetery will definitely be on my list again. After all, there are still plenty of stories waiting to be discovered.
Ever wondered what graveyards really say about us?
Graveyards: A History of Living with the Dead explores that question in a really interesting way. From ancient burials to modern memorials, Roger Luckhurst looks at how people have dealt with death, remember people they’ve lost, and even turned cemeteries into places of art and culture. This book isn’t just about stones and bones. It’s about history, creativity, and the many ways the dead continue to shape the living.
Luckhurst takes readers on a global tour of burial traditions. He moves through early human burials, ancient civilizations like Egypt and Rome, religious grave sites, garden cemeteries, and modern memorials. Along the way, he also shows how graveyards appear in literature, film, and art, revealing how these spaces have inspired storytelling for centuries.
“Why, how, and where do we inter our dead? How have people throughout history responded to the problem of laying their dead to rest? Roger Luckhurst sets out in search of answers in this arresting book. Taking readers on an unforgettable tour of the rich and unusual visual culture of the grave, he visits locales such as the pyramids of Giza, the catacombs and columbaria of Rome, and the cenotaphs erected to the world’s war dead. Along the way, he examines the diverse roles of graveyards in literature, art, film, and television.
In engaging chapters that look at all aspects of the treatment of the dead, Luckhurst covers topics ranging from early burials and the emergence of necropolises and catacombs to grave robbing, garden cemeteries, the perilous overcrowding of the urban dead, and the emergence of modern funerary culture. Exploring the cultural afterlives of burial and memorial sites in the popular imagination, he shows how graves have served as guides to the underworld, poignant dedications to those we have lost, as reminders of our own mortality, and settings in gothic horror.”
Graveyards is filled with beautiful images. You’ll find photos of memento mori, monuments, symbols, and even scenes from films that use graveyards to explore human fears and hopes. The mix of history and visuals makes the topic easy to connect with.
I thought this was a gorgeous book. It feels almost like an art book, thanks to the thoughtful layout and high-quality photos. The writing leans a little academic, but the references to pop culture and movies help keep things interesting and easier to follow. The book is packed with facts about the history of burial, paired with striking examples of memorial art.
Graveyards: A History of Living with the Dead is both engaging and thought-provoking. It ties together the history of burial with art, literature, and modern culture. It shows that graveyards are more than places of rest. They reflect the values, beliefs, and stories of the people who created them.
Even though it’s a bit academic, the images and cultural references make this an enjoyable read. I would especially recommend this book to cemetery enthusiasts, history buffs, or anyone curious about the stories behind graves and memorials.
Thanks for reading!
I am always on the hunt for cemetery-related book recommendations. If you are an author and have a cemetery-related book you would like me to review, please reach out at hello@chantallarochelle.ca. I would love to hear from you!
With Saint Patrick’s Day coming up, it felt like the perfect time to share some clovers and shamrocks that I have photographed over the years.
I love the variety you can find in cemetery symbols, and although clovers and shamrocks are not super common in Ontario, I have come across a few interesting examples.
Clovers and shamrocks often get mixed up, but they are actually two distinct symbols.
Shamrocks
A shamrock has three leaves and is closely connected to Irish culture and identity.¹ It also carries an important religious meaning. According to tradition, Saint Patrick used the three leaves of the shamrock to explain the Holy Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.¹ Because of that story, the shamrock became a symbol of both Irish heritage and Christian faith.¹ When it shows up on a gravestone, it can sometimes hint that the person buried there had Irish roots or a connection to Christian faith.
Clovers are most often recognized in their four-leaf form. Unlike the shamrock, the four-leaf clover is not tied to Saint Patrick or religious teaching. Instead, it has long been linked with luck and good fortune.¹ The fourth leaf is actually a rare natural mutation, which is one of the reasons people began to see it as a lucky find.¹ In some traditions, the four leaves are said to represent faith, hope, love, and luck.¹
So if you ever find one in the wild, congratulations! You must be very lucky.
For me, finding these little details is all part of the fun of exploring cemeteries with my camera. Sometimes the smallest carvings end up being the most interesting discoveries.
I first learned about René M. Caisse by chance during a visit to downtown Bracebridge, Ontario. The restaurant I had planned to visit with my Mom was closed, as was most of the downtown core, because it was Easter Monday. Only one place was open, and it just so happened to be across the street from a statue of René M. Caisse.
After reading the plaque, I pulled out my phone and did a quick search to discover that she was the woman behind the herbal remedy known as ESSIAC.
I had never heard of Caisse before, or ESSIAC, for that matter. The more I read, the more I had to know.
What exactly was ESSIAC, and how did this small-town nurse end up known around the world? A little more searching revealed that her final resting place was also in Bracebridge, so I added a stop to our trip to pay our respects. By the end of the day, I would find myself standing beside her gravestone, reflecting on how one small discovery downtown had turned into a much larger story.
René M. Caisse
René M. Caisse was born on August 11, 1888, in Bracebridge.1 Trained as a nurse, she developed an herbal formula for patients that she later named “ESSIAC”, her last name spelled backwards.2 The formula included roots, bark, and leaves of plants such as burdock root, sheep sorrel, slippery elm, and rhubarb root.3
In her manuscript,I Was “Canada’s Cancer Nurse”: The Story of ESSIAC,Caisse described how she first learned about the herbs that would later shape her life’s work. In the mid-1920s, while serving as head nurse at the Sisters of Providence Hospital in northern Ontario, she encountered an elderly patient who had once been diagnosed with advanced cancer.4 According to Caisse, the woman told her that decades earlier, a local Indigenous medicine man had offered her an herbal remedy. The woman chose to follow his instructions, preparing a daily tea from the specific plants he identified in the region. When Caisse met her nearly thirty years later, she seemed to be in remission.4
Caisse wrote that at the time, a cancer diagnosis often felt like a death sentence.4 The patient’s story stayed with her. She recorded the names of the herbs and later began refining the formula, eventually combining several plants into what would become known as ESSIAC.4
Caisse maintained that she never claimed to have discovered a guaranteed cure for cancer, explaining that her goal was to control the disease and pain relief.4
A bronze statue in the Bracebridge downtown core honours her work. The sculpture, created by Huntsville artist Brenda Wainman-Goulet, stands on a stone base near where her clinic once operated.5 During the 1930s and early 1940s, thousands of patients travelled to the Muskoka region hoping to visit her clinic.2
The medical establishment questioned the effectiveness of her remedy, and government reviews in Canada concluded there was no clinical evidence to support ESSIAC as a treatment for cancer.5 Some studies even indicated it could cause possible harm.3 Caisse, for her part, believed powerful interests stood in the way of broader acceptance. She wrote that it would make established research foundations “look pretty silly if an obscure Canadian nurse discovered an effective treatment for cancer.”4
Even so, people still seek out ESSIAC, drawn by word of mouth and the hope that this herbal blend might offer relief when other options feel limited. Her legacy remains visible in Bracebridge and beyond, through her statue, a theatre named in her honour, and through the many stories of those who came to her clinic in search of help.5
Beyond Caisse’s time, the remedy has been commercialized and repackaged. For example, the company ESSIAC®, through ESSIAC Canada International, touts its herbal blend as “trusted since 1922,” with marketing of powdered, capsule, and liquid extract forms.6 Meanwhile, Resperin Canada Limited claims to prepare “Resperin’s Original Caisse Formula Tea” using Caisse’s original herbal recipe.7
Even with all the marketing around it today, independent sources still say there’s no reliable evidence that ESSIAC works as a cancer treatment.3
The main ingredients of ESSAIC; burdock root, sheep sorrel, rhubarb root, and slippery elm.
Months after our trip to Bracebridge, the story followed me home. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my local natural food store carries a version of ESSIAC. Standing in the aisle and seeing her name and likeness on a bottle nearly a century later made the story feel less like history and more like something still unfolding.
Curious, I asked what forms they carried and ended up purchasing a small sample of the four main herbs that make up ESSIAC. The store sells it as loose herbs, herbal powder, in capsule form, and as a pre-mixed blend packaged in a large bag. The clerk told me ESSIAC is popular and they always keep it in stock. She mentioned that sales tend to come in waves, and that often people who have just received a cancer diagnosis come in looking for it.
It’s interesting to see how Caisse’s legacy still lives on the shelves of health shops nearly a century later, with people continuing to turn to it in moments of uncertainty. Whatever conclusions science has reached, the hope attached to her name has clearly endured.
Bottles of ESSIAC on the shelf of my local health food store.
René M. Caisse McGaughey suffered a broken leg after a fall at her home, from which she never recovered.8 Five weeks later, on December 26, 1978, she passed away at the age of 90.8 Although she received tempting offers to establish clinics in the United States, she chose to remain in Canada. In her writings, she explained that her ancestors had come to Canada from France in the 1700s and that she was determined to prove the merit of ESSIAC in Canada so the country would receive the credit.4 Not far from the statue that first caught my eye, Caisse now rests in Saint Joseph’s Roman Catholic Cemetery in Bracebridge.
Finding her grave felt like the final piece of the story. From spotting the statue downtown, to learning about her work, to standing at her grave, the story had come full circle. Her gravestone, which acknowledges her as the “Discoverer of ESSIAC” is simple yet powerful.
Walking among the rows of gravestones, I reflected on how her story is deeply rooted in this place. She is remembered not only because she lived and worked in Bracebridge, but because the community continues to honour her in visible and lasting ways.
In many ways, this visit brought together local history, public memory, and my own curiosity, all meeting at her final resting place.
René Caisse’s life offers a fascinating mix of determination, controversy, and local remembrance. She stands out as a woman from a small town who believed in an herbal remedy, faced bureaucracy, and left a legacy that is still visible today.
While the scientific verdict on ESSIAC is still debated, the story of its creator remains part of Canadian medical history.3
Visiting her statue in downtown Bracebridge, noticing her name on a product shelf, and standing beside her grave reminded me that remembrance takes many forms. Sometimes it’s cast in bronze, sometimes printed on packaging, and sometimes it’s etched in stone, just waiting for someone to notice.
Cemetery Photography by Chantal Larochelle 