With Joy and With Love

My husband, Ken, died 11 years ago this past March.  He had cancer, and his death was expected.   In conversations with him, I was not surprised that he cared little as to what form his memorial service would take.  He assured me I was free to do whatever made our kids and me feel better.  I was, however, surprised that he wanted his ashes interred in the columbarium at St. Timothy's.   It was a decision that surprised me because he had only recently scattered his parents' ashes in the Fraser River in British Columbia, and I assumed he would have wanted something similar. But for reasons he never explained, he was set on the columbarium.

The word columbarium comes from the Latin word columba, which means nesting place for doves.  The catacombs, used by early Christians in ancient Rome for both refuge and burial, resembled the niches used by nesting doves.  Doves have long been a symbol of peace, the Holy Spirit and the resurrection.


The columbarium and the Patricia Westlake Sammel Memorial Garden at St. Timothy's were built in 1996 by Ed Sammel, father of Peter Sammel, in memory of his wife.  Our columbarium has space for 48 niches and can be expanded in the future. Each niche is marked with a brass plaque with birth and death dates.  There is also a plaque dedicated to those whose ashes were scattered in the Rose Garden.  The columbarium is administered by trustees headed by Peter Sammel who meet occasionally to supervise maintenance of the Garden and to update records.

The columbarium and Patricia Westlake Sammel Memorial Garden allow us to surround ourselves with the communion of saints in a setting that becomes a tangible representation of our faith in the resurrection.

I have friends living near St Tim's who have told me that they sometimes stroll through the prayer garden and pay respects to Ken and remember how easily (and loudly!) he laughed.   And two of Ken's fishing buddies stop by each October before the annual fishing trip to remember Ken and how much he loved his family.  Perhaps Ken knew that what would make us feel better was knowing that he was remembered with joy and with love. --Amy Phillips Witzke