Best, Norma Isalene

Best, Norma Isalene
02 Nov

Norma Isalene Best, age 81, of Thomas Gap, Westbury Road, St. Michael and formerly of 8th Avenue, New Orleans St. Michael, former employee of Electric Sales and Services, Daughter of the late Ruby and Arthur Best, Mother of Shirley, Ruby, Darlington, Peter and Marian Wickham, Francia Wickham-Odderson, Adopted daughter of Margaret Clarke, Sister of Joel Best of the U.S.A., Vere Wickham of the U.K., Courtney and David Best and the late Idalia Lyte, Romie and Michael Best, Grandmother of Wilma Douglas of the U.S.A., Steven, Ronald, Ryan, Shara, Lorenza and Fabian Wickham, Davion Bourne, Karen Jordan and the late Shenice Farley, Great-grandmother of eleven, Great-great-grandmother of one, Aunt of Lyte of Canada and many others, Cousin of many, Mother-in-Law of Cecil Greenidge, David Alleyne and Gwendolyn Wickham, Friend of Anthony Nicholls of the U.S.A., Tony Broomes of the U.K., Harriete Knight, June Thompson, Margaret Ruck and many others, Relative of the Wickham, Best, Wharton and Lyte families.

The funeral of Norma Isalene Best takes place on Saturday 4th November, 2017 at The Better Life Assembly Church, Hindsbury Road, St. Michael where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:00 p.m. for the service. The cortege will then proceed to the Westbury Cemetery for the interment.


Funeral arrangements entrusted to W. Edwards Funeral Services.

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

  • Stop all the clocks
    Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead, Put crépe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song, I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong' The stars are not wanted now, put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.