Grave stone decorations aren't something many people like to think about. The death part of it all really gets under people's skin. But I want to dig down deep into this topic. The engraving decorations we can make in stone nowadays can be super intricate. Mostly because many are made with mechanical tools, and some even with programmed machines. With humans’ ability to use the tools we have to make beautiful things, we should never forget the old, hand-carved engravings that have withstood the test of time.
Relatively recently, back in 2014 [oh gawd, 12 years ago], Over the Garden Wall came out on Cartoon Network. It took me several years to have ever heard of it, but once my sister introduced it to me, I instantly fell in love with it. The Unknown has been argued to be an allegory for the layers of Hell from Dante Alighieri’s The Inferno, the first book in The Divine Comedy. Like the original story, and I guess like what Hell would be in general, the afterlife is a mixture of times and a wide range of characters. Just to clarify, I don’t think the reading of the show is one-to-one with The Inferno, just that there are arguments to be made about them being in the liminal space between life and death, being guided by a character named Beatrice, who in The Divine Comedy doesn’t even show up until Paradiso (the heaven book), but they go further and further into the depths until meeting the metaphorical devil who forms people into adlewood trees, which was the proverbial suicide forest wherein the people who committed violence against themselves were turned into trees. But this isn’t a reading of the show. I brought it up to highlight the mix of time periods and the blatant hint of the potential death our main characters, Wirt and Greg, face the whole time: the gravestone decorations on every episode's title card. The introduction brings the art and mystery back into the zeitgeist, even when, among the right people (the cool people, we never stopped studying and interpreting the hand-carved engraving artworks on the stones that mark, for the few of us, in the grand scheme of things, that we were ever here at all.
Ancient History
It’s obvious that gravestones and, more generally, grave markers didn't start out as the 17th-century engravers that are oh so gothically famous in New England, or even as the simple crosses of the Middle Ages. Grave markers have changed both drastically and almost not at all over the tens of thousands of years since people, and I’m including other members of the Homo genus in this, started burying their dead.
Ancient grave markers came in many different forms, including simple standing stones, small mounds, carved memorial stones called stelae, statues, and complete tomb structures. The materials used for these markers likely depended on local resources and the deceased and their families' social status. For example, prehistoric Portugal used uncut granite slabs, Egypt preferred wooden or stone stelae, Greece built limestone grave statues, Roman Dalmatia used local limestone for monuments, and China constructed brick or stone tombs. As these different styles developed separately, they wouldn’t replace each other across areas and would generally only change with time. (Pope & Miranda 1999, Mahmoud et al. 2022, Papageorgiou & Ganetsos 2021, Lozić 2021, Liu 2021)
A broad timeline
With all of human history to contend with, there are innumerable examples of different grave markers, and most of them are lost, broken, or just unreadable at this point. It’s really only the largest and more elaborate markers, stelae, or tombs, that are often cared for more and therefore would have withstood the test of time. I won’t be going into the huge tombs or the even larger pyramids that kings have built for themselves. But just to start off quickly:
Egypt, Greece and Rome
Beyond the monumental necropolis complexes, beyond the pharaonic tombs, or rather as part of them, Ancient Egypt also had inscribed stelae. A funerary stele could be wood or stone, rectangular or arched at the top, and sometimes shaped like a false doorway so the ka (vital essence or life force) could pass back to the land of the living. In one documented type, the front side would have the deceased’s name and titles, with a scene of the person worshipping or making offerings to deities. The stele would have been part of a larger tomb and ritual setting, and not necessarily a marker planted over the grave in the modern sense, so most people wouldn’t have one that would last hundreds, let alone thousands of years. (Mahmoud et al. 2022).
Ancient Greece moved away from the tomb complexes of their forebears and contemporaries, including the Mycenaean Tholos and Shaft Tombs of the Late Bronze Age (c. 1600–1200 BCE) and the Macedonian Royal Tombs of the Classical and Hellenistic Periods (4th–3rd centuries BCE). Instead, they shifted toward necropolises featuring elaborate stone markers, upright grave stelae, carved figures, family enclosures, and rock-cut tombs, rather than simple, uncultivated grave fields. Classical Athenian stelae stood above family tombs and could carry relief figures (Buckley 2022). So, in some cemeteries, limestone statues and stelae formed part of the larger funerary landscape, with the carved images giving a visible presence to the absent dead. (Squire 2018, Papageorgiou & Ganetsos 2021).
Ancient Rome followed the Ancient Greeks' lead in inscribing stone monuments, urns, and family tombs. Specifically, Roman funerary monuments included stelae, cinerary urns, those explicitly made for cremated remains, and their lids. Cremation, the practice of reducing a body to ashes through burning, has a long history which dates back to ancient Greece around 1000 BCE and was often associated with military valor and patriotism. The Romans also practiced cremation, with elaborate rituals for heroes (Britannica Editors 2026). Local limestone was used in some regions, with production centers supplying nearby areas; the form and inscription could communicate identity and commemoration (Lozić 2021). We’ll discuss reflections of this later in the Neo-Classical motifs popular in Europe during the Renaissance and through to New England, starting when they were colonies and built into the foundations and architecture of the new country.
Materials used for monuments varied depending on where people were, how wealthy they were, and how long the monument was meant to last. Marble was highly valued because of its fine detail and ability to hold intricate carvings; examples include Pentelic or Parian marble in Greece and Luna or Carrara marble in Rome. Limestone and tufa were common, durable options often used across the Mediterranean for standard structures like stelae, altars, and urns. Terracotta and stucco were cheaper and often used for smaller or less expensive markers, sometimes painted brightly to imitate more costly stones. (Grossman 2002, Koch & Wight 1988).
Both Greek and Roman cultures created different styles of tomb markers to honor the dead. Greeks often used tall stone slabs called stelai, topped with decorative shapes like pediments or palmettes. They also used special vessels, such as marble oil jugs known as lekythoi and water jars called loutrophoroi, to mark graves of unmarried youths, symbolizing incomplete life stages. Small columns, called kioniskoi, served as simple, understated grave markers. Romans, on the other hand, preferred more grand and elaborate markers, including large altars known as arae, tall cylindrical or rectangular stones called cippi (Latin for "pointed stake"), and detailed stone coffins called sarcophagi. In Roman culture, cippi often served as milestone markers, boundary posts, aqueduct separators, and funeral monuments. Famous examples include boundary stones placed along the pomerium (the sacred boundary of Rome) (Grout n.d., Samter 1899). Along busy roads like the Via Appia, they also placed high-relief portrait stelae featuring portraits embedded into tomb facades. (Grossman 2002, Koch & Wight 1988, Leader 1997).
This idea didn’t come whole cloth from the Romans, nor the Greeks, for that matter. The Etruscans also used Cippi as regional tomb markers and memorials, such as the detailed Cippus Perusinus recording a property agreement (The Metropolitan Museum of Art n.d., Blumhofer 1993, Kaimio 2017). They varied in shape depending on their place and time of origin. Cippi were set up as a stele, column or sculpture in the dromos of an Etruscan grave or at the grave entrance. They had magical and religious significance. Cippi may have the shape of a cube, knob, onion, egg, ball or cylinder. Certain shapes connect to the Egyptian canopic jars, and some cinerary urns were shaped like a human torso, with the head as a lid (Cebrián Fernández 2000, Colley 2012).
In Cerveteri, a municipality in Lazio, Italy, cippi differed according to whether the burial was female or male: men were commemorated with a phallus-column, while women received small houses or temples. In Orvieto, a city in Terni, two so-called warrior-head cippi from the late 6th century BCE depict human heads. The Pietra fetida monuments (6th–5th centuries BCE) from the area around Chiusi in Siena, Tuscany, combine the cinerary urn and cippus since they contain the ashes of the dead in an opening in their base. In Perugia, in central Italy, fluted columns with the floral-patterned acanthus were used. From the 4th century BCE, cippi also have name inscriptions.
The Punic/Carthaginian Cippi functioned as votive stelae or altars across North Africa, Sardinia, and Sicily, and examples like the bilingual Cippi of Malta were key to deciphering the Phoenician alphabet (as the Rosetta Stone was for Egyptian) (Pierret 2001). Egyptian Cippi (Horus Cippi): Were magical healing stelae featuring the child-god Horus. People poured water over the inscribed surface and drank it to cure snake bites or scorpion stings. (Grossman 2002, Koch & Wight 1988, Leader 1997).
Recurring motifs on funerary monuments reveal a lot about the dead and their lives. One common symbol is the Dexiosis, which shows a peaceful handshake between the deceased and a family member, representing their eternal farewell. Roman monuments often displayed realistic portraits or scenes from everyday life, as well as moments from military service or civic roles. Mythological stories, like those of Dionysus, Hercules, or Endymion, were used to symbolize transformation, victory over death, or eternal sleep. Symbols of social status and occupation, such as tools, scrolls, weapons, or household objects like spinning baskets and keys, were also commonly included to show the deceased's social role. (Grossman 2002, Koch & Wight 1988).
These stories and symbols on the markers show how societal worries and philosophical ideas changed over time. Greek tombstones often portrayed the dead as heroes, highlighting their beauty and greatness, no matter how old they actually were when they died. Roman markers focused more on family ties and loyalty, showing the dead as part of a lasting family line and emphasizing duties to family and country. Later Roman and Hellenistic monuments started to include peaceful imagery like upside-down torches, sleeping Cupids, or countryside scenes, which suggested the idea of restful sleep or the soul's peaceful journey.
Europe
In Prehistoric Europe, archaeological examples also include megalithic tombs and standing stones. In Neolithic Portugal, dolmens (also called antas) were built from large granite slabs and often used stones taken from nearby weathered rock formations. These could be collective tombs or monuments within a funerary landscape, rather than individual “headstones” in the modern sense. Some stones were selected or reused in ways that may have carried associations with place and memory. (Pope & Miranda, 1999)
Ancient Scandinavian grave markers and monuments from the Iron Age to the Viking Age were powerful symbols of art, memory, status, and myth. These monuments are mainly built from sturdy local stones like granite, gneiss, and sandstone found across Scandinavia, with some made from fine limestone on Gotland. They weren’t just plain gray stones; archaeologists have found they were actually painted in bright, eye-catching colors using natural mineral and organic pigments such as red ochre, white, black, and blue. Shapes and monument types vary a lot. Runestone monoliths are upright slabs or large natural boulders with carvings along swirling, ribbon-like animal shapes. Gotlandic picture stones, or Bildstenar, are uniquely shaped limestone slabs that started out looking like simple axe-head silhouettes and later became tall, bow-shaped or mushroom-shaped monuments with narrow necks. Ship settings and mounds are often surrounded by large earthen mounds or arranged like longships, with stone circles or alignments that resemble a ship's hull.
These stones feature key artistic motifs, including detailed serpent and dragon interlace work, where stylized beasts entwine around inscriptions in styles like Ringerike and Urnes. They also display panels illustrating mythological and heroic scenes, such as Odin riding Sleipnir, Valkyries offering drinks to fallen warriors, and stories like Völund the Smith. Additionally, facial masks intended to ward off evil spirits appear alongside a mix of pagan symbols and Christian crosses, reflecting different spiritual traditions. The inscriptions convey stories and social roles, showing how both common and important people used stones to share their stories, recording tragic events, heartfelt tributes, and adventures in distant lands, like traveling west to England or dying in the east. Rather than being concealed over graves, many runestones, tombs, and graves were placed in visible locations along roads, bridges, or communal gathering spots. They functioned as political markers, property boundaries, historic or memorial landmarks, or symbols for the wealthy and noble to display their family histories.
Asia
Ancient Chinese and broader Asian grave markers are far more than simple headstones; they function as architectural bridges between the living and the dead, deeply rooted in philosophies like Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. Ancient China had both tomb chambers and markers. Neolithic graves often used vertical pits and simple coffins. By the Han period, some tombs featured multi-chambered stone construction and carved slabs; later regional traditions used materials such as stone in the northwest and brick in the south. These are tomb structures, not merely grave markers, and may have defined ritual spaces around the dead. (Papageorgiou & Ganetsos 2021, Mahmoud et al. 2022, Liu 2021, Lozić 2021, Pope & Miranda 1999). Early Buddhist South Asian stūpas began as hemispherical earthen mounds and developed into monumental structures, built in different shapes and materials as Buddhism spread. Stūpas could enshrine relics and serve as places of worship and pilgrimage, so they were sacred monuments with mortuary functions, not ordinary personal gravestones (Pagel 2012).
In traditional Asian memorials, the choice of materials balances both physical durability and spiritual symbolism. For example, sturdy stones like granite—especially black, grey, or Indian red—and marble are commonly used because they resist weathering and can showcase detailed carvings (Advanced Stone, 2026). Bright colors also matter; unlike Western cemeteries that often avoid vibrant hues, Chinese and other Asian markers frequently feature red, which signifies good fortune and protection, and gold inlay, which symbolizes respect and wealth in the afterlife (Timestone Monument, n.d.). Japanese traditions also include temporary wooden markers called sotoba, which are placed alongside permanent stones. The wood represents impermanence and the natural cycle of renewal, so it must be replaced periodically. (Reader 2012).
Asian graves often reflect the design of sacred buildings and show a strong sense of family unity rather than individual isolation. The markers are usually vertical tablets, which symbolize a continuous spiritual connection reaching upward toward the sky. Many Chinese monuments have a distinctive pagoda-style roof—a carved stone top that sits right on the tablet or is supported by small columns—drawing inspiration from traditional temples and multi-tiered structures. Instead of separate plots for each person, these monuments typically represent multiple generations or family members together, emphasizing their bond and respect for ancestors. The bases of these monuments often include low platforms, bowls, or incense holders, meant for seasonal rituals like the Qingming Festival, when families honor their loved ones.
Carvings on Asian markers serve as a visual language and are highly symbolic, conveying virtues, protection, and wishes for the afterlife. For example, dragons and phoenixes are often seen together; the dragon stands for power and protection, while the phoenix represents rebirth, grace, and harmonious marriage. The lotus flower is a common symbol in Buddhist-influenced regions, representing purity, enlightenment, and rising above suffering. Other popular motifs include the 'Four Gentlemen', bamboo for resilience, pine for longevity, plum blossoms for perseverance, and peonies for prosperity, often carved in the borders or main panels. Additionally, cranes symbolize long life and safe passage to heaven, while tigers or stone guardian figures are believed to ward off evil spirits and protect those who encounter them.
Asian grave markers tell detailed stories to honor family history and bring harmony. These stories include inscriptions that go beyond just naming the deceased; they often show the family’s ancestral village, their place in the family tree, and the names of their children and grandchildren. This helps reinforce the respect and duty owed to parents and ancestors. Sometimes, a special monument is built for a spouse while they are still alive, with part of it pre-carved and left blank until they pass away, symbolizing a lasting bond. The placement and direction of the marker follow Feng Shui principles, usually facing south to bring good luck and prosperity, and positioned near natural features like hills or trees to ensure positive energy for the ancestors and their descendants.
Mesoamerica
Mesoamerican mortuary practices across the Maya, Zapotec, and other regional cultures utilized elaborate commemorative monuments, stelae, urns, and architectural slabs to mark burial locations, enshrine elite lineages, and guide souls through the subterranean journey to the underworld (Marcus, 1978). These markers served not merely as static memorials, but as active ritual focal points embedded in the sacred landscape.
Across the Maya lowlands and Olmec heartlands, people often used durable local stone, especially dense limestone and basalt, to make upright stelae, altar stones, and heavy slabs that sealed elite tombs (Stuart, 1996). In Oaxaca, the Zapotec, as well as the West Mexican shaft tomb cultures, shaped low-fired clay into detailed funerary urns, effigy vessels, and ceramic markers placed inside or above underground tombs (Alderson, n.d.). Stone monuments and ceramic markers were often covered with smooth lime plaster, or stucco, and painted in bright mineral colors. Maya blue and vermilion red were especially common and symbolized life force and sacred energy (Stuart, 1996).
Funerary monuments and tomb entrances often featured witz monster masks, which represented sacred mountains and marked the passage into the underworld (Marcus, 1978). Maya stelae and commemorative markers also showed idealized, youthful portraits of rulers and ancestors wearing elaborate headdresses, jade ear spools, and ceremonial backracks. These images reinforced political and spiritual continuity (Stuart, 1996). In West Mexican shaft tombs, dogs often appeared on ceramic markers and among offerings. They symbolized guides who accompanied and protected souls on their journey across subterranean waters (Taube, 1992). Inscriptions on stelae and other markers recorded important dates, including births, deaths, and accessions, placing the deceased within the ongoing cycle of cosmic time (Marcus, 1978).
Maya stelae and memorial markers were seen as living beings, not just images. People performed rituals to "awaken" them so they could serve as lasting extensions of the king or ancestor (Stuart, 1996). Mortuary imagery also presented death as transformation rather than an end, comparing the deceased and their lineage to seeds that would grow again like maize (Taube, 1992). Markers placed above burials could also act as an axis mundi, linking the human world with the heavens and the underworld. In this way, they affirmed the lasting authority of elite ancestral lineages (Marcus, 1978).
Indigenous North America
Mortuary practices and grave markers among Indigenous peoples of North America vary widely by region, language group, and historical period. These markers were more than memorials: they helped maintain connections to ancestors, preserve community memories, and guide the deceased through the spirit world (Goldstein, 1980; Panich, 2013).
Materials varied by region. Along the Pacific Northwest Coast, including among Haida, Tlingit, and Tsimshian communities, people used western red and yellow cedar to make mortuary poles, memorial columns, and carved burial boxes (Barbeau, 1950; Garfield, 1951). Across the Plains, Great Basin, and parts of the Eastern Woodlands, people arranged fieldstones, river cobbles, and glacial boulders into cairns, rings, or other markers to cover or identify burial places (Keyser & Klassen, 2001). In the Eastern Woodlands and Southeast, local hardwoods were shaped into grave posts, carved markers, or underground charnel houses that enclosed and protected human remains (Panich, 2013).
The designs also carried meaning. Northwest Coast mortuary poles and memorial markers often showed stylized animals and spirit figures, such as eagles, bears, killer whales, and ravens. These images could represent family crests, mythic origins, and lineage rights (Garfield, 1951). Among Plains and Woodland groups, markers and painted posts sometimes included geometric designs, tally marks, or pictographs that recorded a person’s status, leadership, or accomplishments (Mallery, 1893). Other designs referred to directions, waterways, or celestial bodies, placing the deceased within a sacred landscape and supporting their journey into the afterlife (Panich, 2013).
These markers also expressed beliefs about kinship, care, and social standing. They recognized that death changed relationships rather than ending them, creating a sacred distance as the deceased became a respected ancestor or spirit (Goldstein, 1980). Structures such as small grave houses or box burials raised on posts could represent a lasting home and offer the spirit shelter and provisions for its journey (McBride, 2010). Elaborate carvings and large monuments could also reflect a grieving family’s wealth and standing, as well as its responsibilities to others, were often tied to community feasts, potlatches, or public mourning rituals (Barbeau, 1950; Garfield, 1951).
Aboriginal Australia
Australian Aboriginal mortuary traditions include diverse, sophisticated marker forms that vary across regional language groups and cultural blocs. Rather than functioning simply as static memorials, traditional markers—such as the larrakitj (hollow log coffins) of Arnhem Land and the tutini (pukumani poles) of the Tiwi Islands—serve as active ritual vessels, spiritual conduits, and visual expressions of ancestral law and connection to "Country" (Morphy, 1991; Goodale, 1971).
Artists in northeast and central Arnhem Land use stringybark trees (Gaḏayka) that termites have naturally hollowed out to make larrakitj memorial poles (Skerritt, 2019). On the Tiwi Islands, carvers make tutini mortuary poles from heavy, dense ironwood (Erythrophleum chlorostachys). Because ironwood resists termites and harsh tropical weather, these poles can last for decades (Goodale, 1971). Both traditions use natural earth pigments—red, yellow, white, and black ochres—mixed with organic binders such as orchid bulb juice or egg white to create vivid, lasting paints (Morphy, 1998).
Arnhem Land memorial poles are often decorated with fine cross-hatching called rarrk. These shimmering patterns represent ancestral power and identify clan connections to sacred land and water (Morphy, 1991). Poles may also show creation ancestors, ancestral animals such as crocodiles, sea mullet, eagles, and serpents, and important places in the landscape (Mountford, 1956). Tiwi tutini poles feature deep carved grooves, painted bands, and raised geometric designs that represent the Tiwi Islands, the seasons, and ancestral paths (Goodale, 1971).
Hollow log coffins and memorial poles are understood as vessels that hold and eventually release the spirit, helping guide the deceased back to their ancestral home and water source (Morphy, 1998). On the Tiwi Islands, tutini are raised during the final mortuary ceremony to lift mourning taboos known as pukumani, settle the spirit, and bring the mourning period to a close (Goodale, 1971). The designs on these memorial markers also express a continuing connection to country, showing how the deceased and their descendants remain tied to the land through the Dreaming (Morphy, 1991).
What changed over time?
Broadly, many communities moved from simple burial features or locally available materials toward more durable, architecturally elaborate monuments as resources, technology, religious practice, and social organization allowed. But even this is only a loose pattern: a later society might still use a simple marker, and a monumental tomb could be built early where political or religious resources supported it. In China, for example, stone and brick use differed by region; in South Asia, the stūpa changed form as it adapted to local architectural traditions. (Papageorgiou & Ganetsos 2021, Mahmoud et al. 2022, Liu 2021, Pagel 2012)
The most important distinction is between a marker that identifies or commemorates a burial and a tomb monument that houses a body, cremated remains, or relics. Ancient examples often combine functions: inscriptions, images, and monument form could honor the dead, record family or status, support ritual, or mark a community’s religious presence. (Liu 2021, Pope & Miranda 1999, Mahmoud et al. 2022, Squire 2018, Lozić 2021, Papageorgiou & Ganetsos 2021)
These were only a few representative cases, not a complete world history. Preservation is uneven, and some traditions survive mainly through excavated tombs rather than visible above-ground markers.
Crosses and Christianity
Pre-Christian Roots and the Transition
We can’t ignore Christianity when discussing grave markers, especially if we are going to talk about the motifs shown in Over the Garden Wall. However, long before Christianity, symbols that looked like crosses were used all over Egypt, Syria, Mesopotamia, and the general Mediterranean world to symbolize life, divinity, or the sun. Examples include the Ankh and the Sun or Wheel Cross. Between the 1st and 3rd centuries CE, early Christians living under Roman rule faced pretty harsh persecution. They kept a low profile in their tombs, and the earliest Christian burial sites found so far, especially in places like Jerusalem, mostly show subtle resurrection signs, like fish carvings or the “Sign of Jonah” on limestone ossuaries, rather than crosses.
Legalization and Early Christian Cross Markers (4th–5th Centuries)
After the Edict of Milan legalized Christianity across the Roman Empire in 313 CE, crosses began appearing openly at burial sites. [1] In Northern Sinai, cemeteries at places such as el-Uweinat contain 4th- and 5th-century beach-rock tombstones marked with early Christian crosses and Greek inscriptions. [1] At Zoora, in modern Jordan, hundreds of Christian gravestones from Late Antiquity are decorated with crosses, palm branches, and birds. [1]
Crosses Across the Arabian Peninsula and Persian Gulf (5th–8th Centuries)
Christian communities grew along Middle Eastern trade routes through the Church of the East (Nestorian Church) network. [1, 2] On Sir Bani Yas Island in the UAE, archaeologists found 1,400-year-old stucco plaques decorated with crosses above stepped designs symbolizing Golgotha, the canonical place where Jesus died. The plaques were used in monastic courtyards for reflection and to mark spiritual spaces, not as actual grave markers, only symbolic ones. In Najran, Saudi Arabia, people carved 5th- and 6th-century monuments into rock faces. Many are linked to Christians remembered as the Najran Martyrs and feature crosses alongside early writing. [1, 2]
How Cross Grave Markers Changed Over Time
Cross grave markers have developed over many centuries, from simple Christian symbols and wooden or stone markers to more detailed artistic and cultural designs. Early Christian graves were often marked with fieldstones, wooden crosses, or cairns. In 8th- and 9th-century Ireland and Scotland, missionaries added circles to crosses, creating the Celtic cross, which marked graves and boundaries. During the Black Death in England (1348–1349), people sometimes placed small lead "mortuary crosses" with plague victims. [1, 2, 3, 4]
Wooden crosses often rotted away within 50 to 100 years, so few early examples survive. By the 19th century, blacksmiths and manufacturers were making detailed wrought-iron crosses. These became especially common among German-Russian immigrant communities in the American Midwest, including North Dakota from 1884 to 1925. Companies such as Kohler Co. also made cast-iron versions. As stone-cutting methods improved, sandstone, marble, and granite became common materials for grave markers. [1, 2]
Crosses have also been used to honor people who died in military service, including Spanish-American War veterans (1898–1902). Examples include bronze markers, government-issued headstones, and the Southern Cross of Honor on Confederate graves. Roadside crosses, sometimes called “accident crosses” or Unfallkreuze, mark places where fatal accidents occurred. [1, 2, 3]
Common designs include the Latin cross, with a tall vertical arm and shorter horizontal arm, sometimes set on a three-step base representing the Holy Trinity; the Celtic cross, with a circle that may represent the sun or a halo; and the Eastern Orthodox cross, with several crossbars, including a slanted lower one. Maltese and botonee crosses have arms that flare outward or end in button-like shapes, and may symbolize the Trinity or chivalric orders. [1, 2, 3]
Early Modern
European gravestone motifs shifted from early Christian crosses and commemorative inscriptions to medieval effigies, early modern mortality emblems, and later memorials that combined religious symbols with family, occupation, and personal identity. No single Europe-wide sequence existed: local custom, social status, available materials, and fashion all shaped what appeared on a stone and what it meant. (Grillon 2011, Holm 2012)
Early medieval period: crosses, inscriptions, and claims to place
In Wales, cross-decorated stones from around the 7th century marked a shift toward more anonymous grave markers associated with churches and cemeteries. Cross-slabs of the 9th–11th centuries clustered near monasteries and regional churches; some also recorded land donations or signaled land control. The cross therefore marked Christian belief, but the monument could also express institutional or secular authority. (Edwards, 2001)
High and later Middle Ages: the deceased made present
In 12th–16th-century Burgundy, tombs ranged from slabs and inscriptions to effigial monuments—carved likenesses of the deceased. These memorials could serve several purposes at once: remembrance, prayer for the soul, and display of prestige or social standing. Burial near a church and the monument's design also reflected changing religious practice. (Grillon, 2011)
1500s–1600s: mortality made visible
Early modern European memorials sometimes used skulls, hourglasses, clocks, flowers, smoke, and soap bubbles to show that life is short and worldly things do not last. For example, a church gravestone in Denmark for a child who died in 1632 shows a boy blowing bubbles to represent how brief life can be. Some gravestones from the 1500s and 1600s also featured clock faces or parts of clocks to show the passage of time. (Holm, 2012)
1600s–1700s: skulls, cherubs, and local variation
In Scottish churchyards, one 18th-century stone combines a skull and crossbones with an hourglass and the Latin phrases Memento Mori (“remember death”) and Fugit Hora (“the hour flies”). Other stones show cherub heads, doves, or serpents. These examples sit within a broader Christian vocabulary of death and hope, but a skull did not always simply give way to a cherub: research on Gloucestershire warns that the familiar death’s-head-to-cherub chronology may not fit the English evidence consistently. (Holm 2012, Edwards 2001)
1700s–1800s: mourning, faith, and social identity
Flowers, urns, and crosses became common on some English and Scottish headstones, though their frequency differed by region. In the 19th century, markers also recorded occupation and community life: a Scottish stone, for instance, bears a miner’s tools, while an ecclesiastic’s grave is marked with a chalice. The expanding memorial trade brought more forms and ornament to a wider public, but individual buyers were often choosing from designs available through local masons. (Edwards 2001, Grillon 2011, Holm, 2012)
1800s–1900s: angels persist; styles diversify
Angels and cherubs did not disappear with the Reformation: a survey of English and Welsh memorials finds them from the early modern period into the 21st century, used on both children’s and adults’ graves. Their meanings can include heavenly protection, resurrection, or the soul’s passage, though interpretation depends on the figure and context. In early-20th-century Lviv, memorial art moved among Neoclassical, Art Deco, regional styles, and modernism, showing how artistic fashion reshaped cemetery design. By the 20th century, some European stones increasingly used flowers, birds, nature scenes, occupational emblems, or photographs to preserve a sense of the individual’s life. (Grillon 2011, Holm 2012)
How to read a motif
A symbol offers a clue, not a guaranteed translation. The same flower, cross, angel, or skull may carry devotional, familial, occupational, or decorative meaning; inscriptions, date, location, denomination, and surrounding imagery help determine the most plausible reading. European stone design also varied strongly by region and social context, so the timeline above offers examples rather than a universal progression (Grillon 2011, Holm 2012).
Cross marker, Christian commemoration, could also mark church land or authority (600 onward). Cross-slab from 9th-11th c. Grave markers clustered near monasteries and churches, meaning could include faith and institutional memory. Effigy/ likeness (12th - 16th c.) Keeps the deceased present in memory, could signal prestige and support spiritual commemoration.
Willow Trees
The weeping willow motif is a recognizable, widespread symbol on late 18th- and 19th-century New England gravestones. Becoming prominent during the Federalist period (roughly the 1780s through the mid-1800s), the willow replaced earlier Puritan motifs, marking a profound shift in American religious philosophy, social attitudes toward death, and aesthetic tastes (Deetz, 1977; Dethlefsen & Deetz, 1966).
The Cultural and Chronological Shift
In their influential studies of New England burial grounds, James Deetz and Edwin Dethlefsen traced changes in gravestone designs from the 17th through the 19th centuries (Deetz, 1977; Dethlefsen & Deetz, 1966). From about 1660 to the 1720s, gravestones often featured a death’s head, reflecting a strict Calvinist view of human weakness and the body’s decay. Between the 1730s and 1780s, the winged cherub, or soul effigy, became popular, suggesting a more hopeful belief in the soul's journey to heaven. From about the 1780s to the 1850s, the urn and willow came to represent a shift away from strict Calvinism toward more secular, sentimental, and classical ideas. Gravestones increasingly became public memorials expressing remembrance, grief, and the art of mourning (Ludwig, 1966).
The Willow’s Symbolism
The weeping willow (Salix babylonica) carried several layers of meaning. Its drooping branches looked like a mourner bent with sorrow, making it a lasting image of a family's grief and loss (Benes, 1989). Willows are also hardy trees that can grow again from broken branches or seemingly dead stumps. This resilience made them symbols of spiritual endurance, resurrection, and the soul’s immortality (Clasen, 1990). The willow’s popularity also grew alongside Americans’ interest in Greco-Roman ideals, civic virtue, and classical antiquity after the Revolutionary War (Deetz, 1977).
The Willow and Urn Pairing
On New England gravestones, the weeping willow is almost always carved with a classical urn, often placed beneath its branches or shown as if they drape over it (Boston.gov, 2025). Although early New England colonists generally buried their dead in the ground rather than cremating them, the urn became a widely understood symbol of classical antiquity, the body, and the temporary nature of human life. Together, the urn and willow formed a shared visual language: the urn stood for the deceased’s remains, while the living willow branches suggested lasting remembrance and spiritual renewal (Benes, 1989).
Flowers and urns were also common 19th-century motifs associated with mourning, remembrance, and faith, though styles varied by region.
Skeletons/Skull
For centuries vanitas and memento mori imagery reminded people that time passes and death is inevitable. Hourglasses and clocks could symbolize time, while winged skulls became a common motif.
Skulls and skeletons carved into 17th- and 18th-century New England gravestones are striking examples of early American folk art. They were more than decorations or frightening images: they reflected Puritan beliefs about death, mortality, and the temporary nature of earthly life (Ludwig, 1966).
The main purpose of skull and skeleton imagery was to serve as a memento mori, a Latin phrase meaning "remember that you must die." In Puritan New England, thinking about death was an important part of spiritual life, not something morbid (Dethlefsen & Deetz, 1966). Puritans believed earthly life was a brief period before eternity in heaven or hell. Through stark images, gravestone carvers warned the living against becoming too attached to worldly concerns and encouraged them to prepare their souls for judgment.
One common motif was the death’s head, or winged skull, which appeared mostly from the mid-1600s to the mid-1700s. It usually showed a bare skull with stylized bird or angel wings. The skull represented the body’s decay, while the wings suggested the soul escaping or taking flight after death (Ludwig, 1966).
Some gravestones showed full skeletons in symbolic scenes. These figures might carry a dart or arrow of death, or hold an hourglass to show that time had run out (Deetz, 1977). Other skeletons were shown cutting life short with a scythe, like the Grim Reaper, or snuffing out a candle. The candle symbolized the fragile, brief spark of human life, while the skeleton represented its inevitable end (Ludwig, 1966).
Over time, gravestone imagery in New England changed in a fairly consistent way (Dethlefsen & Deetz, 1966). As strict Puritan theology softened in the mid-18th century, influenced by the Great Awakening and the Enlightenment, carvers gradually replaced the stern death's head with winged cherubs or soul effigies. This shift reflected changing religious ideas: instead of emphasizing physical decay and damnation, communities increasingly pictured the soul rising peacefully to heaven (Deetz, 1977). By the late 18th and early 19th centuries, skulls and skeletons had largely given way to classical urn-and-willow designs, reflecting a more secular and romantic view of mourning.
Cherubs/angels seem to be the antecedent of the winged skull in some ways. A good-looking image of a sort of psychopomp to bring you to heaven after death. The imagery continued beyond the Reformation in varied child and adult forms. When it’s more of an angel, and later in time, in the 19th through 20th c., there’s definitely more of heavenly mediation, resurrection, or the soul’s passage, which persist to modern times. They show up in the “Babes in Toyland” episode as the beings bringing Greg to Cloud City. I don’t have proof of this, but since they followed the skulls with wings and the cherubs were basically baby heads with wings, they wanted to put a friendlier face on death, or rather the psychopomps that would be bringing you to the afterlife, as the ones in Over the Garden Wall were doing for Greg.
Chalice and tools
On 18th- and 19th-century gravestones, symbols such as chalices and work tools could identify a person’s religious role or occupation. On historic New England gravestones and other Anglo-American colonial markers, these images formed a visual language that shared information about the deceased’s faith, social standing, and life (Forbes, 1927; Ludwig, 1966). A chalice, for example, might represent a member of the clergy, while hammers or sickles could point to a person’s trade.
The chalice has roots in Christian worship. It represents the Eucharist, or Holy Communion, the Last Supper, and the blood of Christ (Ludwig, 1966). It can also symbolize spiritual nourishment, redemption, and a lasting connection with God. Chalices often appeared on the gravestones of ministers, pastors, deacons, and church elders, who administered the sacraments in the meetinghouse. In this context, the symbol marked their religious office and leadership. More broadly, the chalice could stand for spiritual longing and acceptance of divine grace, contrasting with the reminders of death found in earlier death's-head imagery (Benes, 1991).
Carved tools also helped identify a person’s occupation. An anvil and hammer might represent a blacksmith, an awl and leather knife a shoemaker, a square and compass a carpenter or mason, and a shuttle a weaver (Forbes, 1927). When written inscriptions varied in length or detail, these familiar images made a person’s trade easy to recognize. They also reflected the Puritan belief that work was more than a way to earn a living: it could be a divine calling. Skilled, honest labor was seen as a virtue and a way to honor God (Ludwig, 1966). Some tools carried additional meanings. A compass or square, for example, could suggest order and sound construction, or indicate ties to a trade guild or fraternal group.
Together, chalices and trade tools could offer a fuller picture of a person’s life. The chalice represented religious faith, while the tools reflected skilled work and service to a community that valued both faith and industry as important parts of a well-lived life.
Potsfield and Communal Graves
Potter’s fields, also called communal or pauper’s graves, are public burial grounds for people who are poor, unknown, institutionalized, or unclaimed. Unlike private or family plots, which often support remembrance and individual mourning, potter’s fields were designed for efficient, low-cost burials, sometimes on a large scale. Their markers, when present, tended to reflect administrative needs and anonymity rather than a person’s life or legacy and lacked the traditional images of personal or spiritual decoration found in many cemeteries, such as weeping willows, skulls, welcoming hands, or religious symbols (Bahde 2006).
Potter’s field markers generally carried a tracking number rather than a name (Sluby 2004, Laqueur 2015). This number could be the plot location or an institutional code, such as a year, trench number, and body sequence, connecting a burial to administrative records (NYCDOC, 1967). In many potter’s fields in the 18th and 19th centuries, people were buried in plain pine boxes beneath simple turf. Temporary wooden pegs or stakes might mark the graves, but they often rotted away, leaving the landscape without visible markers (Bahde, 2006). In some closely managed municipal burial grounds, such as Hart Island in New York City, concrete markers or stamped cement blocks were used to map burial sections. Set level with the ground, they helped staff keep records without getting in the way of burial equipment (New York City Department of Correction [NYCDOC] 1967). When they used individual markers, they often made them from plain, practical materials such as cast iron, zinc, or reused metal (Sluby 2004).
The absence of individual markers can symbolize how poverty or social isolation erased differences in status, personal achievements, and identity in death (Laqueur, 2015). Communal grave markers can also reflect the bureaucratic handling of death, with human remains treated as an administrative responsibility or public expense managed by city agencies, almshouses, and prisons (NYCDOC, 1967). Bare, neglected, or unmarked burial grounds may further represent how society has historically excluded and forgotten people who were vulnerable, isolated, or denied social recognition (Bahde, 2006). More recently, some historical potter's fields have received a shared memorial stone, installed by local historical groups or municipal governments to honor those buried there as a group (Hillsdale County Historical Society, n.d.).
Discussion and Conclusion
The title card in Over the Garden Wall has the skull with wings, which would be identified as the angel of death, at the top center, with little circles running down the sides and along the bottom (figure). There’s basically one interpretation of how these are used, namely that they are examples of characters or scenes from episodes, but some seem a bit more symbolic, and there are more than 10, which is the number of episodes. Probably multiple characters or ideas. There are plenty of videos on YouTube explaining what they mean, so I’ll skip that and instead look at the circles themselves that could appear on gravestones. Like in the top corners, where there are the silhouettes of Greg and Wirt and what looks like the Woodsman in the bottom middle, they can be portraits of those who have died. These could be 2D pictures or 3D sculptures, similar to relief cameos or intaglios (the sunken version), that also regularly appeared on necklaces, brooches, etc. Just like anything else that would go into a gravestone design, the images in circles would be images or things that are important to the person who died, though really most meaningful to the family of the one who died, as they would have been the ones who commissioned the stone in the first place.
Nowadays, people can get basically anything lasered into a tombstone, grave marker, or memorial, as long as the computer can read the image file. We can personalize them to no end, especially if someone is willing to pay up. Back in the day, every single one took hours, if not days, of specialized sculpture work on the potentially expensive rock. This meant that people put a lot of thought and meticulous planning into a rock that would have been hard to replace. Grave markers served as vital focal points for memory, piety, and negotiating social status. Far more than simple functional indicators of burial sites, these monuments encapsulated cultural values, religious beliefs, and personal narratives. It was a collective experience, not an individual one. The entire burial experience is for the community, for the family, to show off the person they lost, to celebrate their loved one and, especially in the New England colonies, to show others that they’ll be going to heaven, and everyone else should remember that that’s the goal.
I’ve mentioned it already in the text, memento mori, remember that you will die. We will all die someday and hopefully we can make a difference for the better in the world, at least be remembered by those we love. Whether we are around to see it or not, whether for ourselves or those we care about, we leave a grave marker, memorial, urn, diamond, tree, or whatever individuals want on the earth for our memories. To show that our lives and the lives we touched mattered; to inspire others; to show that we existed, even if only as a name, date, and motif on a rock.
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