Part 11 - Tiny Tombs Beneath the Moss: Fading Names of Lost Children

In this blog and ongoing series, you can follow Abandoned Nordic's urbex road trip as we journey from Finland to France along an extended route. The trip will take about a month. We’re currently in Budapest, Hungary, and there’s a really fascinating cemetery I want to tell you about.

Overgrown area of Kerepesi Cemetery, part of the children's graveyard.

Since the wild boar mercifully spared my life (whole story here), we continue our journey towards Budapest later that morning. We check into a hotel conveniently located near the place I plan to visit early the next morning, before sunrise. But it’s only midday, and we have time to fill before then.

Budapest is an enchanting city - without a doubt. It is  my absolute favourite among the places we stop during our trip. If you have time to explore Budapest, I highly recommend visiting the Fiumei Road Graveyard, also known as Kerepesi Cemetery. It’s one of the largest and most renowned cemeteries in the city, a vast expanse where many of Hungary’s notable historical figures are laid to rest. Parts of the cemetery have become overgrown and reclaimed by nature, giving it a unique, almost eerie atmosphere. Among the old gravestones and monuments, trees and shrubs grow wild, creating a haunting beauty. If you’re drawn to places that carry the echoes of history and a touch of decay, you’d understand why I was so eager to visit.

In one of the cemetery’s more secluded areas, we find an overgrown section where all the grave markers are small, compelling you to pause and take a closer look. After reading a few of the weathered inscriptions, it became clear - these are all children’s graves. Most of the death dates are from the 1920s, adding another layer of quiet melancholy to the already somber surroundings.

It’s both fascinating and visually striking, making us eager to find out more. Unfortunately, from a photography perspective, the cemetery’s opening hours are from 7 AM to 5 PM, which, during the bright summer season, means there’s no chance to capture it in the softer light of dawn or dusk. The upcoming days are forecasted to be very sunny - hardly ideal for photography - but there’s still plenty to explore and reflect on.

But damn, this is surely the kind of place meant to be experienced on a gray November morning, when mist lingers around the graves, wrapping the landscape in quiet, haunting elegy.

As we wander between the small gravestones, a question lingers: why are these children buried in a separate section instead of family plots?

I search for more information online. Children are often buried in designated sections of cemeteries for a mix of practical, emotional, and historical reasons. Unlike standard adult graves, typically 7′x3′ and laid out in regular rows, children’s graves vary in size depending on the child’s age. Financial considerations play a significant role - purchasing a smaller plot in a children’s section is often more affordable than buying a full-sized adult plot, easing the burden on families already facing the unexpected costs of a child’s death. Funeral services for children are sometimes offered at reduced rates or even free of charge.

Emotionally, parents may find comfort in having their child buried alongside other children rather than in an adult section where the grave might feel ‘lost.’ A dedicated children’s section offers a serene, focused space for grieving, making it easier for families to visit and feel connected to their child’s resting place. In cases of stillbirth, parents may feel it’s fitting for the baby to rest in the company of other infants.

Practical factors, such as plot availability, family mobility, or even plots gifted by others, can also influence the decision. If parents later purchase family plots, the child’s remains can be relocated to be near them. Historically, higher child mortality rates shaped burial customs, leading to the establishment of specific sections for children in cemeteries. Ultimately, while there’s no requirement for a child to be buried separately, it often reflects a combination of financial, emotional, and cultural factors.

As I delved deeper, I found that the large number of children’s graves from before 1930 could be linked to several overlapping crises: the aftermath of war, economic hardship, disease outbreaks, and high infant mortality rates - all part of everyday life in many European countries at the time, including Hungary.

The shift away from separate children’s burial sections after the 1930s likely reflects a combination of factors. Declining child mortality rates, the growing prevalence of family plots, societal changes, and economic reasons all contributed to this shift. This change mirrors broader societal developments toward more modern, unified ways of handling death and remembrance.

The place is fascinating, and from a modern perspective, a cemetery dedicated solely to children feels oddly surreal. If you ever needed a real-world backdrop for a horror movie, this would be the perfect spot. Strangely, no one seems to have thought of making a zombie film where the zombies are specifically children - I can already picture them in my mind, their small hands clawing their way out of the graves.

After a few hours, we’ve seen enough. On a hot day like this, the overgrown parts of the cemetery, with their dense trees and thick vegetation, have provided some shade, but the heat is starting to take its toll. It’s time to head back to the hotel.

Later, we venture out again to explore the city. We spend the evening by the banks of the Danube, watching the sunset - it's beautiful here. My mind is already racing ahead to the next morning. The alarm is set for 3 AM, and I still need to review my plan and check my gear. As the daylight fades, we hop on the metro and head back to the hotel, the anticipation of the early morning adventure lingering in the air.