Dance of Death (and Life): Allegheny Cemetery

Three years ago, I met the man I’d like to marry someday.

When I tell people that it took until our third date before I realized that I’d like to keep this tall, dark, and handsome stranger around for a bit, that sounds reasonable. What they laugh at is that our third date took place at Allegheny Cemetery in Lawrenceville, and that we’ve made it a tradition to go back every November since then. 

The first burial at Allegheny Cemetery occurred in 1845, and both ordinary and famous people alike are interred there. The resting places of songwriter and composer Stephen Foster and actress Lillian Russell are among the more popular places to visit in the cemetery.

Aside from history, what interested us about Pittsburgh’s Allegheny Cemetery in the first place, and what keeps us coming back every year? Well, we’re both used to finding life in unexpected places and in particular, we are both great fans of The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman. Allegheny Cemetery was the first cemetery I’d visited that seemed like a mythical story could spring forth from its grounds. 

According to its website, “Allegheny Cemetery was created to be far more than the typical country burying grounds of that age.” It’s true; the evidence of Victorian life is everywhere. The time period is preserved within the ornate mausoleums and weeping, lifelike sculptures standing guard over the dead, in the bits of Egyptian symbolism, and in a tombstone with the words “Split down the middle,” in what I assume is a Christian reference to the resurrection of Jesus. 

What struck me the most is that there are seats for visitors to stop and rest, even at the foot of family tombs; the passing of a woman walking her dog through the grounds seemed miraculous with so much silence surrounding me. I remember thinking, cemeteries are for the living. Life pushes its way forward here and the dead manage, even in the smallest of ways, to be remembered. 

Like this guy. I'll have to brush up on my Roman Numerals next time I go, and when I kick the bucket I'll make sure the inscription on my tombstone is written in cursive. 

Photos and text by Faith Cotter