FULTON, Mo. -- Sidney Wood never knew his father.

But among the hundreds of nameless, whitewashed gravestones that line the Fulton State Hospital Cemetery, there's a small granite marker that bears his father's name.

"I just felt, a person came onto this earth," 90-year-old Wood said. "He shouldn't pass out of the picture without a trace."

Wood's father, also named Sidney Wood, is one of more than 700 FSH patients buried in the hospital cemetery, located just north of the Biggs Forensic Center.

"We're here for the generations of people who lived out their lives on this campus, suffering with the terrible trials ... of mental illness," Department of Mental Health director Dorn Schuffman said at a Memorial Day observance.

The event, organized by FSH administration, commemorated those patients as well as the FSH employees and patients who have passed away in the past year.

"There are many names we can't say here today," said FSH Chief Operating Officer Marty Martin. "But we need to remember that we can say those names inside our hearts."

Indeed, Wood's father's tombstone is one of just a few in the 154-year-old cemetery that specifies a name, and no one can be certain of its proximity to his father's exact location on the grounds.

The mystery was one of many Wood came across several years ago, when he decided to investigate the life and death of his father, who separated from his mother when Wood was just 3.

Slow going

As the years passed, Wood says he learned little about his father's whereabouts.

"I never met him," he said. "I guess I just got curious."

By tracking down family members and other sources, Wood discovered his father had spent time at Fulton State Hospital before passing away there in 1954 and being buried in the cemetery.

However, the search couldn't uncover many of the details that Wood sought.

A 1956 fire that ravaged the hospital's administration building destroyed most of its remaining patient records, some of which dated to the 1800s.

According to FSH administrator Ken Lyle, the fire also destroyed the only remaining plot that recorded who was buried in the cemetery, and where.

"All they could find out was that he came here and died here," Wood said.

Nevertheless, Wood arranged for a tombstone to be placed at the site three years ago. And every Memorial Day since -- with one exception for his granddaughter's marriage -- Wood says he has made the 2,000-mile trek from Tacoma, Wash., to pay tribute.

Wood wasn't the only attendee at Wednesday's ceremony with an interest in remembering the cemetery's occupants.

Cemetery improvements

Lyle, the hospital's chief financial officer, is one of a group of employees who decided six years ago to work together to improve the cemetery's appearance.

"We adopted the cemetery as a group project," Lyle said. "We felt it was important to respect them, even though we didn't know their names."

They began regularly mowing and trimming, landscaping the grounds, whitewashing the stones and placing American flags there each Memorial Day.

They even erected a sign on Wood Street to mark its location, Lyle said.

"This is also to show respect for the facility's past," Lyle said. "Because if we don't show that, no one else will."

The ceremony on Wednesday paid special tribute to the sacrifices of the United States armed services, and offered all present an opportunity to acknowledge their own loved ones who have passed away.

It also offered Wood another chance to ensure that his father's memory is permanently preserved.

"We actually don't know where he's buried," Wood said, gesturing down the hill to the rows of anonymous markers. "But there's his tombstone. He'll be remembered."