Cemetery Road Trip: The Walkerton Water Tragedy

I rarely stop to think about where our drinking water comes from, let alone whether it’s safe.

In May 2000, the small town of Walkerton, Ontario, faced one of Canada’s worst public health disasters. Contaminated water led to the deaths of seven people and made more than 2,300 people sick.1

Walkerton is about a four-hour drive from where I live, and this year marks the 25th anniversary of that tragedy. In June, my mother and I took a road trip there to visit some of the sites connected to the outbreak and to pay our respects to the lives that were lost.

What Happened in Walkerton

You might remember hearing about this on the news. Walkerton’s drinking water became contaminated with E.coli.1 The source of the contamination was traced back to Well #5, where runoff from a nearby farm had entered the groundwater. Heavy rainfall in early May 2000 carried manure into the well, and the danger was made worse by human error and poor safety practices at the time.1

For days, residents kept drinking the water, completely unaware of the risk. Once it was realized what was happening, it was too late. Within weeks, seven people had died and more than 2,300 others became seriously ill.1 Many survivors continue to live with lasting health problems even today.

The Walkerton Inquiry, led by the Honourable Dennis R. O’Connor, later showed that this wasn’t just one bad well—but a series of failures. Training was inadequate, oversight was weak, and protocols weren’t followed the way they should have been. Out of this tragedy came stricter water safety regulations for Ontario, which eventually shaped how drinking water is managed across Canada.2

Visiting Walkerton

When we arrived in Walkerton, our first stop was the Walkerton Clean Water Centre. It first opened in 2004, and since then has trained over 23,000 water system operators.3 The new state-of-the-art building, which we visited, was opened in 2010. It features a demonstration water distribution system for hands-on training, more room to host seminars, and space to conduct research.3

In May of this year, they offered tours of the facility, close to the anniversary of the tragedy. The timing didn’t work out for us to take a tour, but I still wanted to take a look at the building.

It’s a modern building, with a lovely koi pond just outside its main doors. The large windows have a nice view of the pond, and let in a lot of natural light. There is also a small pond across from the entrance, overgrown with tall grass and cattails, that is surrounded by a little trail loop. I imagine the staff take advantage of that little walking trail on their lunch breaks. I think the water features, while also being pretty, act as little reminders of how important water is to our ecosystem and us.

Our next stop brought us to a small cemetery that wasn’t connected to the tragedy. I am not one to pass up a cemetery visit though, so we made our way to visit. It just so happened to be very close to the Walkerton water tower. After that, we decided to visit a few more cemeteries, the last one of the day being Calvary Cemetery.

Calvary Cemetery is on the outskirts, just south of the town. This cemetery visit was important for our journey, as it is the final resting place of two people who died in the water tragedy.

Edith Pearson, a mother of five and a grandmother of 13, passed away at the age of 82.4 Not far from her rests Lenore Al, a retired part-time librarian, who passed away at the London Health Sciences Centre at the age of 66.4 Their memorial services were held both during the same week.5

It was a very reflective visit, as my mother and I walked the rows searching for these specific graves. It was a scary thought to think what could happen by just drinking a glass of water. Standing in front of their graves also made their story real, bringing it off the page and into reality.

After that somber visit, I thought it might be a good idea to visit something a little more hopeful. The Walkerton Heritage Water Garden features a waterfall that gushes out from a crack in a large rock formation. It’s inspired by the biblical story of Moses, who struck a rock in the desert to bring water to the Israelites.6 It represents water as a positive symbol of life, healing and renewal. The waterfall pours into a small pond that is surrounded by a larger walking trail. There are benches and small clusters of flowers and tall grass that dot the path that leads you back to the memorial fountain.

It was a hot day when we visited, so the occasional cool spray from the waterfall was very welcome. It was a nice little spot for a small walk, but the constant running water made it hard to forget why it was there.

Our first day in Walkerton was a long one. Shortly after our walk, we found something to eat and then settled in to our motel for the night. We had one more site we had to visit.

The next morning, after a good breakfast, I wanted to find Well #5.

Sometimes while planning and researching, it can be tricky to find exact locations, even in this digital age. But I thought we have to give it a try. So with only a street name in my GPS we headed out.

Slowly driving down the dirt road, we kept our eyes peeled for signs of the well. I was getting worried as we reached the end of the road, but I caught the glimmer of what looked like a silver plaque.

We found the well, which has since been capped off, tucked in behind a small building on the edge of a farmer’s field. Today, it’s just a large cement pad with a small silver plaque. If you didn’t know what you were looking at, you may think nothing of it, but the plaque tells the whole story.

“Well 5 Memorial / This plaque marks the location of Walkerton’s former Well 5 / which supplied a portion of the town’s drinking water from / 1978 into the spring of 2000. In mid May of the year 2000, / extremely heavy rains washed a toxic blend of biological / pathogens through the soils and into the vulnerable shaft of / Well 5 and ultimately into Walkerton’s Municipal drinking / water system. The resulting contamination of the town’s / drinking water system lead to the deaths of seven people and / caused thousands of others to fall ill. It is hoped that all those / who visit this location will reflect upon the multiple causes of / this tragedy and will be filled with a renewed reverence for the / comprehensive stewardship of the waters that sustain us all.”

Finding the well was a moving moment, and as the plaque suggested, my mother and I took some time to reflect as we looked into the farmer’s field and at the old well.

Lasting Impact

The story of Walkerton didn’t end in 2000. For many survivors, the contamination left behind long-term health complications that they will carry for the rest of their lives. One of those people was Robbie Schnurr, who became seriously ill during the outbreak.7 The illness damaged his kidneys and digestive system, leaving him to cope with constant pain and health struggles for nearly two decades.7

In May of 2018, Robbie made the heartbreaking decision to end his life through Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID).7 He was just 51 years old. The illness caused by Walkerton’s poisoned water was just too heavy a toll.7 Robbie’s story is a reminder that the impact of what happened in Walkerton wasn’t confined to the weeks of the outbreak. It rippled out for years, forever altering lives and families.

Moving Forward

One of the outcomes of the Walkerton Inquiry was a complete overhaul of Ontario’s drinking water regulations. New laws were brought in to ensure public accountability, proper testing, and better training for those operating municipal water systems—all with the goal of making sure something like this never happens again.2

And yet, even in 2025, not every community in Canada can count on that promise. Some First Nation reserves continue to struggle with unsafe drinking water, some living under boil-water advisories that have lasted for years.8

It’s a frustrating and heartbreaking reality. Safe drinking water should be a basic human right, not a privilege.

Visiting Walkerton was an educational and somber experience. Standing at the memorial fountain, walking through the cemetery, and pausing at Well #5 all carried more weight than just stops on a road trip. It was a chance to reflect on a tragedy that forever shaped this small town, and to see how its lessons continue to make Ontario’s communities safer today.

Twenty-five years later, the Walkerton water tragedy remains a powerful reminder of what’s at stake when safety is ignored. It also reminds us of the resilience of a community that continues to honour those lost, while moving forward with a commitment to never forget.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Inside Walkerton: Canada’s worst-ever E. coli contamination | CBC
  2. Commemorating Walkerton – 20 Years Later | Drinking Water Source Protection Quinte Region
  3. New Walkerton Clean Water Centre Opens | Ontario.ca
  4. The Walkerton Tragedy | Globe and Mail
  5. Second funeral held in town with tainted water | CBC
  6. Walkerton Heritage Water Garden | Bruce Grey Simcoe
  7. In 2000, Walkerton’s poisoned water ruined his life. He decided it was time to end it | Toronto Star
  8. 30 years under longest boil-water advisory in Canada, Neskantaga First Nation pushes for new treatment plant | CBC

Cemetery Book Review: Cemetery Stories

I’ve been reading cemetery-related books for a long time now, so when I spotted this one on Amazon, I was immediately intrigued. The title promised a fascinating dive into graveyards and everything connected to them—a must-read for anyone interested in the eerie, mysterious, and macabre side of cemeteries.

Today, I’m sharing my review of Cemetery Stories: Haunted Graveyards, Embalming Secrets, and the Life of a Corpse After Death by Katherine Ramsland.

Ramsland, a professor of forensic psychology and author, what happens after death—how society deals with it, the process of burial, and what takes place in and around cemeteries. She interviews a range of people in the American death industry, covering topics from embalming and funeral practices to more unusual and supernatural stories.

Here is the synopsis from Goodreads:

“Admit it: You’re fascinated by cemeteries. We all die, and for most of us, a cemetery is our final resting place. But how many people really know what goes on inside, around, and beyond them? Enter the world of the dead as Katherine Ramsland talks to mortuary assistants, gravediggers, funeral home owners, and more, and find out about: If you’ve ever scoffed at the high price of burying the dead, or ever wondered how your loved ones are handled when they die, or simply stared at tombstones with morbid fascination, then take a trip with Katherine Ramsland and learn about the booming industry — and strange tales — that surround cemeteries everywhere.”

Despite the title, I found the actual cemetery content surprisingly sparse. The stories and interviews are interesting, but each topic is covered quickly before moving on to the next. The book feels more like a broad overview of the funeral industry, with only a small portion devoted to cemeteries.

If you’re already familiar with the basics of the death industry, you might find it too surface-level to offer anything new. That being said, I think Cemetery Stories would be a good fit for readers who are just starting to explore funeral practices and cemeteries.

One section I struggled with was the final chapter, which discusses necrophilia. In my opinion, it was unnecessarily graphic and didn’t match the tone of the rest of the book. It felt gratuitous and didn’t really add anything meaningful to the overall discussion.

That said, if you’re new to the subject or curious about the behind-the-scenes aspects of death care, this book is a decent introduction. It covers a wide range of topics and provides some memorable glimpses into the industry. Just be aware that it’s not in-depth by any means—and you might want to skip that last chapter if you’d rather avoid reading explicit material.

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!

World Photography Day: Capturing Cemeteries Through My Lens

Tuesday, August 19, is World Photography Day, a day to celebrate the art of photography in all its forms.

Over the years, I’ve dabbled in just about every type of photography—product, food, portrait, weddings—but nothing has ever felt as natural or creatively fulfilling as photographing cemeteries and gravestones.

I find there’s something deeply meaningful about capturing the details of an old tombstone, the way the light filters through the trees, or the quiet beauty of a forgotten graveyard. Cemeteries are full of history, and every stone has a story to tell. But stone doesn’t last forever—inscriptions fade, wooden markers break, and time slowly wears away these pieces of the past.

That’s why I believe cemetery photography is more than just an creative hobby, it’s a way of preserving history.

So today, on World Photography Day, I’m celebrating the quiet art of cemetery photography—the way it connects us to the past, sparks curiosity, and ensures that these stories aren’t lost to time.

If you’ve ever thought about bringing your camera (or even just your phone) to a cemetery, I highly recommend it. You never know what history you might capture.

Do you have a favourite cemetery photo you’ve taken? I’d love to see it! Share it with me on Facebook or Instagram and don’t forget to use the tag #WorldPhotographyDay.

Happy World Photography Day!

The Beauty and Symbolism of Cemeteries in the Summer

Summer is winding down, but everything still feels full of life.

Trees are lush with green leaves, flowers are in full bloom, and the bees are buzzing all around. Cemeteries reflect that same energy. It’s the time of year when nature is at it’s fullest—and in cemeteries, that adds an extra layer of meaning.

Even in these quiet places, there’s life all around. It reminds me that cemeteries aren’t only about endings—they’re also about remembering lives that were full, loved, and meaningful.

Sometimes, it’s not just the greenery that brings cemeteries to life; it’s the wildlife too, and summer can be the best time to spot them.

On a recent visit to Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery in Montréal, I spotted a couple of groundhogs throughout the cemetery who froze in place when they saw me. Like little furry statues, they stared me down until I had passed by. Moments like that make cemeteries feel even more alive, with nature and memory sharing the same space.

Of course, summer cemetery visits do have their challenges. The noonday sun can be intense, and without shade, it can be easy to overheat. On summer road trips, sunscreen and water are a must! Sometimes I’ll even sit down to rest under a tree—a chance to slow down for a minute and also take it all in.

Another thing I love about graving in the summer—especially here in Northern Ontario—is the longer daylight hours. Around this time of year, the sun usually sets between 8:30 and 9 p.m., which gives me lots of time to explore and take photos.

This post wraps up my series exploring how cemeteries change throughout the seasons. If you missed the earlier posts, you can still read about cemeteries in the Fall, Winter, and Spring. Each season really does bring its own mood.

What’s your favourite season to visit cemeteries?

Mine is still Fall. I can’t resist the crunchy leaves, cooler air, and all the moody vibes that come with Halloween season. But honestly, every season has something beautiful to offer, and I’ve enjoyed exploring them all.

Thanks for reading!

Cemetery Book Review: A is for Arsenic

It’s rare that a book that’s not focused on cemeteries makes its way onto the blog, but after reading A is for Arsenic: An ABC of Victorian Death, I couldn’t resist sharing it with you.

It’s a quirky, informative, and fun look at the moody and fascinating world of Victorian death rituals, with a good dose of dark humour.

A is for Arsenic is written by Chris Woodyard, a self-titled “Fortean”. If you’re unfamiliar with the term, (like I was) Forteans named themselves after Charles Fort, who researched all things strange and unusual.1

The book covers topics like post-mortem photography, embalming, and funeral attire. And yes, it does cover a couple of cemetery-related topics, like white bronze grave markers, and the gates ajar cemetery symbol.

Here is the synopsis from Goodreads:

A is for Arsenic is a guide to the basics of Victorian mourning with “death-initions,” and stories resurrected from 19th-century newspapers, brought back to life through the evocative art of Landis Blair. Each entry includes a pen and ink illustration along with 19th-century anecdotes ranging from macabre stories to jokes from the Victorian press. (Plus sinister little poems in homage to Edward Gorey.)”

I read the softcover edition and found this little book to be a fun and engaging read. I particularly enjoyed the quirky poems that open each chapter. Their dark, whimsical tone reminded me of Edward Gorey’s work and added a fun layer to the material. Paired with the lovely illustrations by Landis Blair, the poems and the historical content make for a delightful read.

You might actually recognize Blair’s artwork if you’ve read my very first Gift Guide for Taphophiles—he was one of the 13 artists I featured. It’s wonderful to see his darkly whimsical style bringing Victorian history to life.

The book does also include plenty of serious historical context. Each alphabetical entry is backed up with stories and facts pulled from the headlines of 19th-century newspapers, offering a glimpse into the strange and sometimes sinister happenings surrounding death in the Victorian era.

As I mentioned, it’s not entirely focused on cemeteries, but there are some cemetery-related tidbits throughout the book. Along with topics like post-mortem photography, and the importance of death tokens and mourning fashion—it all ties in to burial customs and practices.

I found this to be a charming little book, that’s both educational and entertaining. While it might not be focused solely on cemeteries, it’s definitely worth the read for anyone interested in the fascinating history of Victorian mourning customs and death rituals.

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!


References:

  1. About the Author | Haunted Ohio

Stone Stories: The Tangled Truth of J.E.H. MacDonald

On a recent trip to Toronto with my fiancé, we found ourselves with a bit of free time to explore—and for me, that usually means a visit to a cemetery.

Our friends we were staying with suggested we take a walk to Prospect Cemetery, one of the larger and more historic burial grounds in Toronto. It was a chilly, grey day for late April, but despite the dreary weather, it was perfect for a quiet stroll.

There’s something extra special about sharing my love of cemeteries with others. I pointed out some grave symbolism along the way, and our friend—who used to bring their daughter here to bike ride—showed us some of their favourite gravestones.

But I also had a bit of a personal mission too: to visit the grave of J.E.H. MacDonald, one of the founding members of The Group of Seven.

J.E.H. MacDonald

James Edward Hervey MacDonald was born in Durham, England in 1873 and moved to Canada with his family in 1887.1 He trained in commercial art and landed a job at Grip Ltd., a Toronto design firm that turned out to be a creative hot spot for future Group of Seven artists.2

MacDonald mostly painted with oil, a paint that let him build rich textures and bold, expressive brushwork into his landscapes. He had a special talent for using bright, sometimes unnatural colours to set a mood rather than literal realism. His style focused more toward the feelings and spirit of the landscape rather than detailed realism.2

He was especially inspired by the wild landscapes of Algoma and the Rocky Mountains. His 1916 painting The Tangled Garden shows just how much colour and movement played into his work.2 Besides painting, he also taught art and eventually became the principal of the Ontario College of Art in 1929.2 He helped shape not only Canadian art but also the next generation of artists.

Controversy

MacDonald made headlines again in late 2023—long after his death—but not for the reasons you’d expect.

The Vancouver Art Gallery had been showing ten oil sketches that were believed to be his work, donated back in 2015. But after some doubts were raised, experts took a closer look—and discovered they were fakes!3

Experts tested the pigments, looked at the brushstrokes, and compared the style to his known works. The materials didn’t match what MacDonald would’ve had during his lifetime, and the way the art was created didn’t quite fit either.4

In a refreshing move, the gallery didn’t just quietly pull the pieces—they created a whole exhibit about the forgery, cleverly called A Tangled Garden.4 The title, a nod to MacDonald’s famous painting, added a bit of irony to the situation.

I respect how the gallery handled it. They used the opportunity to teach people about how art is authenticated and how fakes are detected. In the end, MacDonald’s reputation stayed strong—no copy could ever capture the depth and meaning of his real work.

Prospect Cemetery

J.E.H. MacDonald passed away in 1932 after suffering a stroke. He was only 59. He’s buried in the family plot in Prospect Cemetery in Toronto.5 His grave is simple, tucked away among the rows of headstones. A foot stone with his initials J.E.H.M., and his birth and death dates sits in front of a larger family stone with the MacDonald name. Next to it is another foot stone marked W.H.M. / 1876—1956. I’m not certain, but I believe he might be laid to rest beside his brother, William Henry MacDonald.

There is another foot stone in the MacDonald family plot that is a bit of a mystery. The stone is engraved with the letters J.E.M. and the dates 1920-1926. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to uncover any details about this child’s grave.

Standing in front of MacDonald’s grave felt like another little win in my personal journey to visit the final resting places of all the Group of Seven artists. This was the third grave I’ve visited so far, and I find it fascinating how different each artist’s marker is.

Despite their fame, none of their gravestones are flashy. Like Franklin Carmichael’s grave, MacDonald’s grave didn’t have any grave goods—no paintbrushes, no small stones, no tiny canvases. But there was something powerful about the peacefulness of the spot.

There’s something grounding about visiting the grave of someone whose work you admire. You see where their story ended, but you also carry part of their legacy with you. That day in Prospect, under grey skies and the hum of city life just beyond the trees, felt like the perfect moment to reflect on MacDonald’s impact.

Whether through his bright, expressive paintings or the recent conversations around art authenticity, J.E.H. MacDonald still shapes how we see Canada. His grave may be modest, but his influence on Canadian art is anything but.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. J. E. H. MacDonald | The Canadian Encyclopedia
  2. James Edward Hervey MacDonald | The Group of Seven
  3. These Group of Seven artist’s sketches are fake — and that’s the point of this Vancouver Art Gallery exhibit | CBC
  4. Museum Realizes Ten J.E.H. MacDonald Sketches Are Fakes—and Puts Them on Display | Smithsonian Magazine
  5. J E H MacDonald | Mount Pleasant Group

A Collection of Gates Ajar

If you spend a lot of time in cemeteries, you’ll notice certain symbols popping up again and again—some are familiar, others are a bit more unusual. One symbol I’ve come across often in my cemetery travels is a set of open gates, standing slightly ajar.

So today on the blog, I wanted to take a closer look at this symbol: what it means, where it comes from, and share a few of the interesting examples I’ve photographed over the years.

There’s something poetic about the image of an open gate. It feels like an invitation or a sign that something—or someone—is waiting just beyond. Sometimes the symbols are ornate, with intricate columns on either side, while others are much simpler.

The “gates ajar” motif has been around for more than a hundred years and was especially common in Victorian and early 20th-century cemeteries. It reflects a comforting belief that death is not the end, but a passage. These gates represent the soul entering Heaven or the afterlife, offering hope and comfort to those left behind.1

Interestingly, this symbol became even more popular after the release of a novel called The Gates Ajar by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. Published in 1868, just after the U.S. Civil War, the book follows a young woman grieving her brother. In the book, her aunt explains that the gates of Heaven are never fully closed. Instead, they stay slightly open, allowing souls to move between this world and the next. The book was controversial for its ideas but became a bestseller, inspiring everything from sheet music to flower arrangements…and gravestone symbolism.2

Next time you’re walking through a cemetery, take a look around. You might spot a gate carved in stone, just slightly open—and find yourself thinking about what might be on the other side.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Gravestone symbols and their meanings (PDF) | Wolf Memorial
  2. Headstone Symbols: Gates Ajar | Save the Graves

Cemetery Book Review: The Speaking Stone

For this month’s cemetery book review, I wanted to share The Speaking Stone: Stories Cemeteries Tell by Michael Griffith. This collection of essays is a celebration of those quiet, curious moments when a stroll through a graveyard leads to more than just reflection—it sparks discovery.

Griffith, a long-time Cincinnati resident, and kindred spirit, spent countless hours wandering Spring Grove Cemetery, allowing his curiosity to guide him to unexpected tales of interesting figures, quirky epitaphs, and forgotten lives.

Here is a snippet from the book synopsis on Goodreads:

The Speaking Stone is a literary love letter to the joys of wandering graveyards. While working on a novel, author and longtime Cincinnati resident Michael Griffith starts visiting Spring Grove Cemetery and Arboretum, the nation’s third-largest cemetery. Soon he’s taking almost daily jaunts, following curiosity and accident wherever they lead. The result is this fascinating collection of essays that emerge from chance encounters with an interesting headstone, odd epitaph, unusual name, or quirk of memory. Researching obituaries, newspaper clippings, and family legacies, Griffith uncovers stories of race, feminism, art, and death.”

Published in 2021, The Speaking Stone is a newer book that captures Griffith’s daily visits to Spring Grove Cemetery, where his curiosity leads him to discover some really fascinating stories. From famous figures to lesser-known individuals, each essay brings a fresh and unexpected perspective.

What I really enjoyed about the book was the variety of stories the author uncovers. I found it mirrors my own passion for exploring cemeteries—sometimes it’s a random gravestone or quirky detail that sends you down that research rabbit hole. While I may never get to visit Cincinnati, reading about its rich history and unique residents was a real treat.

The paperback version includes both color and black-and-white photos, which add another layer to the stories, though I found myself wishing there were more photos to accompany each essay.

Still, The Speaking Stone is a great read for anyone who loves the unexpected stories cemeteries have to offer. Whether you are a seasoned taphophile or just someone who loves history, this book offers a fascinating mix of surprising tales and historical insights.

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.

Stone Stories: Sudbury’s Ghost Bike

Bicycles often represent freedom and joy, but when painted flat white and placed by the roadside, they carry a much heavier meaning.

These “ghost bikes” mark the sites where cyclists have lost their lives, serving as haunting memorials and powerful reminders of the need for safer streets.

The History of Ghost Bikes

Ghost bikes are roadside memorials placed at locations where cyclists have been killed in traffic accidents. The bikes, painted entirely white, serve both as a tribute to the fallen and as a warning to motorists to share the road and drive safely.1

The first documented ghost bike appeared in St. Louis, Missouri, in 2003. A cyclist named Patrick Van Der Tuin witnessed a car hit a fellow rider and decided to take action. He placed an old bicycle at the crash site with a sign reading, “Cyclist Struck Here.”2

The idea spread quickly, and soon cities around the world began installing their own ghost bikes in memory of lost cyclists.

Beyond their role as memorials, ghost bikes have become global symbols for cycling advocacy. They are often installed by local organizations or loved ones who want to honour victims and raise awareness about road safety.2

Sudbury’s Ghost Bike

Ghost bikes aren’t unusual in Canada—they mark the tragic losses in communities just like mine. In my hometown of Sudbury, in 2017, a white bicycle appeared in memory of Dr. Robert Santo “Bob” D’Aloisio, a local cyclist who was struck and killed in a tragic accident.

His death deeply affected the community, sparking conversations about road safety and the need for better cycling infrastructure.3

It was a bit of a dreary day when my mother and I went to visit the ghost bike. It’s secured to a parking lot railing outside of an apartment complex on a busy street. I’ve driven by it many times but only really noticed it recently. The white bike blends into the white of the railing, so unless you’re looking for it, you might miss it entirely. That in itself feels symbolic—how easy it is to overlook something so significant if you’re not paying attention.

We kept our visit short since I didn’t want to take up anyone’s parking spot, but I made sure to take a moment to pause and reflect. While I was taking photos, I looked up at the tall apartment buildings surrounding us and thought about how someone could’ve easily witnessed the accident from their window.

Even after nine years, the ghost bike remains—a quiet, persistent reminder of the loss that took place there.

D’Aloisio’s passing was a devastating loss for his family and the cycling community. His loved ones continue to advocate for greater awareness and protection for cyclists. His story is a haunting reminder of the dangers cyclists face and the responsibility of all road users to ensure their safety.4

Park Lawn Cemetery

After visiting the ghost bike, we headed to our second stop—the cemetery.

Robert D’Aloisio is laid to rest at Park Lawn Cemetery. The cemetery itself is peaceful and tucked away, a contrast to the busy road where his memorial stands. The moment we stepped out of the car, it felt quieter, more reflective. I felt like I needed to visit both sites: the place where his life ended, and the place where he now rests.

The sun was beginning to peek out as we arrived, and the birds were singing. We wandered the gently curving paths for a few minutes before we came upon the D’Aloisio family plot. His gravestone is elegantly simple: polished granite with the family name at the top and a Latin cross separating his name from his wife’s, who is still living.

Visiting his stone, after having just stood at the place where his life was cut short, felt as if the threads of his story had tied together—from tragedy to rest.

Ghost bikes are powerful symbols, but the ultimate goal is to make them unnecessary.

Their presence speaks to the need for safer infrastructure, stricter enforcement of traffic laws, and a cultural shift toward respecting all road users. In Ontario and beyond, cyclists, pedestrians, and drivers must all coexist with caution and compassion.

With the warmer weather returning, more cyclists are hitting the roads. It’s a timely reminder for all of us—whether we’re behind the wheel, on a bike, or on foot—to slow down and share the road.

D’Aloisio’s story, like that of many others, is a call to action. Let’s honour his memory by advocating for safer roads and ensuring that cyclists can ride without fear.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Ghost Bike FAQ | Advocacy for Respect for Cyclists
  2. Ghost Bike | Wikipedia
  3. Sudbury ‘ghost bike’ a haunting reminder | Sudbury Star
  4. Father’s cycling death haunts Sudbury family | Sudbury Star

The Beauty and Symbolism of Cemeteries in the Spring

Spring is finally here! After months of snow and cold, it’s so refreshing to feel the sun again and hear the birds singing. Everything is starting to wake up—even cemeteries.

There’s something calming about walking through a cemetery while the trees are budding and the flowers are in bloom. The air smells fresher, and the world feels full of new beginnings. It’s a gentle reminder that life keeps going, even after loss.

Spring is all about growth and change. Trees grow new leaves, flowers bloom, and the grass turns green again. In cemeteries, this feels extra meaningful. You’re surrounded by the past, but everywhere you look there are also signs of new life. Even in places of rest, life still finds a way to come back.

You can often find flowers carved into gravestones, each carrying their own special meaning. Roses are one of the most common, with a variety of meanings based on how they are depicted. A full rose usually represents love or beauty, while a rose with a broken stem is thought to symbolize a life cut down in their prime. A rosebud with a broken stem, on the other hand, represents a young life cut short.1

Tulips are the only flower that continues to grow after they have been cut from the bulb. This might be why tulips as a gravestone symbol, are thought to represent eternal life.1

My first cemetery road trip of the season happened at the end of April, when my Mom and I headed to Bracebridge to explore the area. We visited four cemeteries that day, a little library, and a Rotary garden that hadn’t started blooming yet.

An ice storm had hit the area a few weeks earlier, and there was still a lot of damage in the cemeteries. Branches were down, trees had snapped, and the usual spring cleanup hadn’t happened yet.

Still, even with the mess left behind by the storm, I could see signs of spring trying to break through. The birds were singing again in places that had been silent all winter.

Spring doesn’t always arrive quickly, and it’s not always neat and pretty. My trip to Bracebridge reminded me of that. But just like the cycle of life and death, the seasons keep moving forward. Even after hard times, beauty does return. Cemeteries in the spring shows us that healing happens, growth is always possible, and memories live on in every blooming flower and standing stone.

So whether you’re out for a peaceful walk, taking photos, or just enjoying the sunshine, take a few minutes to breathe in some of that fresh air, and enjoy the flowers around you. Cemeteries in spring are full of quiet beauty and gentle reminders that life is blooming all around us—if we take the time to look.

Thanks for reading!


References:

  1. Understanding Cemetery Symbols: A Field Guide for Historic Graveyards by Tui Snider