Bostic, Odlyn Odette

Bostic, Odlyn Odette
15 Nov
2017

Odlyn Odette Bostic, age 58, of Brown’s Road, Hothersal Turning, St. Michael, member of St. Michael Parish Ambassador Committee and the St. Matthew’s Cub Scout Pack, Daughter of Mazie Bostic and the late Leslie Bostic, Mother of Jared Layne and Chioke Douglas, Sister of Carl Bryan and Hadley Bostic, Aunt of Vanessa Walcott and Cherilyn Best, Niece of Keith and Patricia Murrell of the U.S.A., Neville Murrell, Joyce Small of Canada, Marriette Gallbraithe of the U.K., Cynthia Lynch, Denville Forde and Gordon Bostic, Cousin of Steve and Kevin Murrell and many others, Sister-in-law of Janet Adams-Bostic, Relative of the Bostic, Bryan, Murrell, Prescod and Applewaite families, Special friend of Peter Douglas, Deborah Lashley, Katie Carmichael, Shery Wiltshire and many others


The funeral of Odlyn Odette Bostic leaves L.E. Smith Funeral Home, St. Michael’s Row, St. Michael on Thursday November 16th, 2017 at 2:00 p.m. for the St. Matthews Anglican Church where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 3:30 p.m. for a Service of Thanksgiving, followed by the interment.


The Organist and members of the choir are asked to attend.


Floral tributes may be delivered to the L. E. Smith Funeral Home, St. Michael’s Row no later than 1:45 p.m. on Thursday.


Viewing takes place in the chapel of L.E. Smith Funeral Home from 3:00 p.m. until 5:00 p.m.
on Wednesday.


Condolences may 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.