Echoes of Appalachia

In the Appalachian Mountains, where the ridges and valleys shape both the land and the people, many families have a tradition of laying their loved ones to rest on mountaintops. For my family, that tradition lives on in Spillcorn, a small community tucked away in Marshall, North Carolina. It’s where my grandparents, great-grandparents, my mother, and many others from our family and community are buried. Our cemetery, perched high on a mountain, is not just a final resting place—it’s a peaceful sanctuary, a space for reflection, and a symbol of our deep connection to both the land and our loved ones.

A Practical Choice, Rooted in Tradition

In the mountains, finding flat land can be difficult, so it’s no surprise that mountaintops became the ideal location for cemeteries. The steep slopes of the valleys and the rocky terrain made it nearly impossible to create burial sites in the lowlands. But up on the mountaintop, the land was flat and open—one of the few places where a family could gather to honor their deceased.

For us, the mountaintop cemetery in Spillcorn became a central part of our family history. It wasn’t just a place where our ancestors were buried; it became a part of our yearly rhythms and rituals. Every Easter, we would gather at the cemetery for the sunrise service. The cool, quiet morning air would wrap around us as we stood together in the stillness, listening to the words of hope and remembrance. The mountaintop view, bathed in the early morning light, felt like a connection to something higher—something beyond us all.

Then, on the first Sunday in August, we’d return for Decoration Day, a tradition where every grave was carefully decorated with flowers, mementos, and sometimes even flags. It was a time to honor not only the memory of the deceased but also the enduring bonds within our community. Each year, we’d see the same families, the same traditions passed down, and it always felt like a moment of peace amidst the passage of time. These visits weren’t just about remembering the dead—they were about celebrating the lives that came before us.

A Place of Peace and Reflection

My mother is buried in this same cemetery, and over the years, I’ve often found myself drawn to that place, where the stillness of the mountain seems to slow time. It’s a place where I can sit and reflect, surrounded by the trees, the birds, and the gentle sounds of nature. I recently placed a granite bench at her gravesite, a simple but meaningful way to honor her memory. Now, whenever I visit, I sit on that bench, allowing myself to pause and take in the peace of the place. It’s not just about grieving—it’s about reflecting on the memories of the people who are buried there, on the stories they told, and the lives they lived.

Sitting there, I can feel the weight of our family’s history, but also the lightness of the mountain air. The view stretches far across the valleys, and I’m reminded of the closeness to heaven that these mountaintop cemeteries represent. There’s a quiet comfort in knowing that my mother, along with so many others I loved, is resting in this peaceful place, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains.

More Than Just a Cemetery

The cemetery in Spillcorn, like so many others in the Appalachian Mountains, is not just a place for the dead. It’s a living part of the community, a place for quiet reflection, for gathering, and for remembering. It’s where the past and present meet, and where the spirit of those who have gone before us continues to feel close. Each visit reminds me of the deep ties we have to each other, to the land, and to the beliefs that have sustained us through generations.

Whether it’s at sunrise on Easter morning, during the colorful displays of Decoration Day, or just a quiet moment spent on the granite bench by my mother’s grave, this mountaintop cemetery is a place of peace—a place where I can reflect, remember, and feel a sense of connection to the generations of my family who came before me. It’s a quiet reminder that, while time moves on, the love and memories we share never truly fade.