I had some time to fill, and so – as I often do – I delved into death. The entrance was on Friar’s Street, behind a big modern office block, and as far as I could make out, there wasn’t much of the original place left. The effigy of a knight, worn away by the rain and wind. A single stone pillar (all that remains of the abbey). And, among the graves, this one: “In memory of little Matthew, aged 7 years. 1864.”

What do we know about Matthew? We know his family was probably fairly well off – how else could they have paid for a big stone near the gates of the abbey? But we also know that wealth didn’t always protect you. The death of babies and children was common in the 19th century so perhaps Matthew died of smallpox, or measles, or diphtheria. Who knows.

I’ve tried to find out more about the boy, without success so far. But I took a picture of the gravestone, in the grounds of the former Blackfriars Abbey in Inverness, and Matthew has been on my mind quite a lot since then. I’ve always been like this. Wherever I am in the world, I will seek out a graveyard and look at the names of people I do not know. Like the ones at Blackfriars. Rose Lynch. William Mackintosh. And some who only left initials. EMP. MF. JB. It’s fascinating, and unsettling, and inspiring.

But I worry too. The graveyard at Blackfriars is in pretty good condition considering and it’s obviously well cared for, with the gates being opened every day so people can look around. But not every graveyard is like this and not everyone cares for it like they should. I’m thinking of the old cemetery at Sanquhar in Dumfries and Galloway, for example. Or Sighthill cemetery in Glasgow. Or possibly the graveyard you visit.

The problem, I’m afraid, is a lack of respect. Take Sanquhar. Families and friends have been turning up to the cemetery recently to find that some of the stones have been broken up, moved, or dug into the ground. Ian Turnbull, for example, went to visit the grave of his grandparents to discover it had been removed from its plinth and part of the inscription was buried in the ground. “I was disgusted and upset,” he said, “especially because I wasn’t aware they would be doing this.”

The council says it is acting in the best interests of health and safety and no doubt they have in mind the death of eight-year-old Ciaran Williamson at Craigton cemetery in Glasgow in 2015. Ciaran was killed when a headstone fell on him and ever since the authorities that own and run burial grounds have been worried it might happen again.

All of this is understandable – obviously we want to prevent another death – but there are better ways of doing it. What appears to happen just now is that council workers go into cemeteries, give the stones a shoogle, and if they appear to be loose, they’ll take them down. It means that relatives can turn up to find gravestones damaged or removed – as is happening in Sanquhar and other cemeteries.

The answer – as the relatives have pointed out – is to approach the problem another way, a way that shows respect. Gravestones that are deemed to be loose could be marked with a flag or a sticker of some kind. The council could then make arrangements to repair them. And they should certainly contact the families. As another relative at Sanquhar, Betty Burns, pointed out, the issue can often be solved with a couple of buckets of cement.

The problem here is resources – it’s cheaper to pull down stones than preserve them. But consider the consequences. Mrs Burns was in tears when she saw what had been done to her grandparents’ stone. And consider as well the grave of little Matthew. Are there relatives to visit it anymore? Does it matter? That grave in Inverness, and others like it, is a reminder of history and mortality. It is a focus for contemplation and meditation. It tells us where we came from and where we’re going. The grave of little Matthew isn’t just for him, and his family. It’s for all of us.

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