Als, Belfield Seymour

Als, Belfield Seymour
12 Dec

Belfield Seymour Als, better known as “Breck-ky”, of Upper Workmans, St. George - Supervisor of the Transport Board, Son of Carmen Leacock and the late Frank Corbin, Grandson of the late Viola Als, Stepson of Wilfred Leacock, Father of Fabian and Rommel Walthrust and Christopher Als, Grandfather of Fabianna, Kiokya, Dashawn and Deshawn Walthrust and Neymar Als, Loving-Brother of Diana Als, Dermont, Mark, Jackie and Michelle Leacock, Cousin of Trevor Als of the U.K., Anthony Als, John, Christopher and Steve Corbin and many others, Nephew of Margaret Als, Beryl, Collen and Colridge Corbin and the late Herman Corbin and many others, Father-in-law of Natasha and Alicia Walthrust, Relative of the Als, Corbin, Clarke, Spooner and Yearwood families, Friend of Cora Kellman, Byron Hepburn, Errol Hinkson, Curtis Miller, Adrian Wilkinson and many others

The funeral of Belfield Seymour Als leaves Waithe’s Funeral Home, Greens, St. George on Friday, 8th December 2017 at 2:15 p.m. for St. George Parish Church, Glebe Land, St. George, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 3:30 p.m. for the service, followed by the interment in the churchyard.

The organist and choir members are asked to attend.

Floral tributes can be sent to Waithe’s Funeral Home not later than 1:30 p.m. on Friday.

Bus transportation will be available from 2:30 p.m., travelling through Workman’s and Jordan’s, St. George, to the church and back.

Online condolences can 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.