I’d say if you’re being called back to a specific place year after year, you’re in no danger of anything that hasn’t already happened. It sounds like that cemetery already haunts you in one sense of the word, and that that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Wow, that’s incredible. I find the idea of the grass and the dirt claiming the markers that humans haven’t cared to preserve bittersweetly beautiful, like all the Greek myths where various tragic figures are turned into plants or stones (e.g. Niobe, Daphne, etc.)

These are gonna be pretty random, but I absolutely have answers for you based on personal experience!

-Glenwood Cemetery in Park City, Utah. Maybe it’s just that I played there a lot as a kid, but there’s something very odd about the way it’s nestled between a bunch of condos but still so quiet and untouched and you feel so alone when you’re there are sundown in the winter.

-Cliffview Cemetery in Price, Utah. There’s nowhere in the world that embodies the edge of town/end of the line vibe so much, like beyond the last gravestone civilization drops away and you’re on your own in the sage and the dust. If you turn around, the town should be right there, but for some reason you feel like you shouldn’t turn around in case it isn’t.

-Delaware Water Gap Cemetery near Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Just the way it’s seated at the top of a pretty long drive up and the very foreboding tree at the entrance is odd, and it has too many convenient lurking spots around the edges.

-The Congregational Burying Ground in Stratford, Connecticut. All of the graves are just so old and yet it gives off the most serene aura of any colonial-era cemeteries I’ve ever been too. Less like it’s haunted and more like the whole place is a fond memory.