Parris, Gregory Nathaniel

Parris, Gregory Nathaniel
18 Dec
2017

Gregory Nathaniel Parris, age 60, affectionately known as “Greg”, of Bennetts, St. Thomas - retired Emergency Medical Technician of The Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Beloved-Son of Esmay Lynch, Cherished-Brother of Tony Parris formerly of the U.K., Margaret Parris of Canada, Charles Lynch of General Manager of Massy Warrens, Andrew Lynch - Superintendant of the Royal Barbados Police Force Band and Paul Lynch - Inspector of the Tactical Response Unit of the Royal Barbados Police Force, Loving-Uncle of Sharree Parris of Canada, Kevyn, Justin, Krystina and Tiffani Lynch, Great-Uncle of Dominic Lynch, Brother-in-law of Sophia and Deborah Lynch and Joy Knight-Lynch, Nephew of Ruby, Vernon, Douglas and Aubrey Parris, Relative of the Parris, Toppin, Blair, Gibson, Jordan, Massiah, Tull, Sealy, Ramsay and many others, Friend of Katrina Small, Kerry-ann Alleyne, Franz Jordan, Patrick McCaskie, Piggot and many others


The funeral of Gregory Nathaniel Parris leaves Paramount Funeral Home, Hindsbury Road, St. Michael at 1:15 p.m. on Tuesday, December 19th, 2017 for St. Thomas Parish, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 3:00 p.m. for the service of thanksgiving and burial


The Organist and members of the Church Choir are asked to attend.


Flowers may be sent to Paramount Funeral Home no later than 1:00 p.m. on Tuesday December 19, 2017


The body will repose for viewing in the Chapel of Paramount Funeral Home from 4:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m. on Monday December 18, 2017


Condolences may be sent to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

  • Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
    Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightening they Do not go gentle into that good night.   Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.   Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.