Gravedigging isn’t something most of us think about—at least not until it’s necessary. But for centuries, it’s been a vital part of how we honor the departed. “It’s not morbid; it’s a part of caring for our dead,” says Genevieve Keeney-Vazquez, an embalmer, funeral director, and president of the National Museum of Funeral History in Houston. “Gravedigging is something that has to be done for the body to be placed in the ground.”

And like most things, it’s changed with the times.

In Houston, the act of gravedigging has undergone its own quiet evolution, shaped by everything from environmental challenges to cultural shifts and technological advances. The ritual of laying someone to rest, once reliant on sheer human strength, has become more efficient. For centuries, the image of a lone gravedigger toiling away with a shovel was a common and almost romanticized one. Today, you’re more likely to see machinery quietly doing the work that once took hours or even days.

“We use backhoes that help make the process much easier, less time-consuming, [and] create a better aesthetic appearance at the end,” Keeney-Vazquez says.

Houston’s unique geography plays a big role in how graves are dug and maintained. The city’s unpredictable weather and soft, clay-heavy soil can present challenges, especially when it comes to preventing graves from sinking or shifting over time. It’s not uncommon to see sunken graves or leaning headstones in some of Houston’s older cemeteries—the effect of unstable ground coupled with the natural decomposition process. To combat these challenges, modern cemeteries often rely on grave liners—concrete or metal containers that encase the casket to keep the earth from collapsing over time.

Weather isn’t the only factor shaping the craft of gravedigging in Houston. The booming population and melting pot of cultures have also contributed to changing burial practices. Traditional funerals remain common, but there’s been a noticeable shift toward cremation, largely driven by cost and space concerns. The museum tracks this shift in a unique way.

“We have a poll where we ask people to drop a penny into [a] tube and it helps us gauge, of our visitors, who’s choosing burial over cremation,” Keeney-Vazquez says. “It started when we did the cremation exhibit in 2018. Cremation is almost filled to the top.” In comparison, the votes for burial barely reach half up the tube.

But even as cremation rises in popularity, the role of the cemetery remains central to many Houston families. For the city’s older burial grounds, maintaining their integrity is an ongoing task. In historic cemeteries in the city like Glenwood or Olivewood, the gravesites are protected but still susceptible to the elements and the passage of time. Keeney-Vazquez points out that perpetual care—the continuous upkeep of the grounds and graves—is often a deciding factor for families choosing a final resting place.

“Perpetual means that [the graves] will be cared for for almost an eternity,” she says. “Non-perpetual care cemeteries rely on the descendants of those buried, or the community, to keep that grave trimmed down, the integrity of the earth as best as possible, and [the] cemetery from becoming nonexistent because the city around has grown and hidden it.”

In a lot of cases, older cemeteries, lacking consistent maintenance, have become overgrown or neglected. Olivewood Cemetery, one of Houston’s oldest, founded in the late 1800s, is a prime example of a non-perpetual care cemetery that relies heavily on volunteers to maintain its grounds. Local organizations have stepped in to restore and preserve the resting place of many freed slaves and early African American settlers.

In a city where development is booming, the encroachment of urban life on cemeteries is also a constant concern. Some, like the Wunsche Family Cemetery, have found themselves surrounded by highways and commercial growth. Yet the graves remain sacred, protected by laws that ensure the land cannot be developed.

“[The city] needed to expand I-45 and create a feeder road but the Wunsche Family Cemetery [was] there. It was on one of the original plots of land owned by the family but development took over,” Keeney-Vazquez says, explaining that the expansion caused the graves to be bumped right up next to the feeder road.

In rural parts of the region, some families still opt to bury their loved ones on family property, though this practice is heavily regulated. This is far less common in the city itself, due to the larger population, close proximity to neighbors, and greater development. After all, it’s more difficult to hide dead bodies with prying eyes.