Belgrave, Carlisle Sylvester

Belgrave, Carlisle Sylvester
14 Dec
2017

Carlisle Sylvester Belgrave -JP, affectionately known as “Brother B” or “Mr. B”, of Wanstead Terrace, Cave Hill, St. Michael - retired Accountant, Son of the late Seibert Johnson and Emmaline Belgrave, Husband of Herma Belgrave, Father of Emerson Bovell, Victor Belgrave, Joy Jordan and the late Winston Belgrave, Grandfather of Cherelle Bovell, Sarina Jordan, Alex and Nikolas Belgrave, Brother of Icilma Johnson and the late Vincent and Sylvia Belgrave, Uncle of Jennifer and Stephen Belgrave, Marilyn Brathwaite Hazel-Anne Michelle Johnson, Cousin of Horace Burgess, Lorna and Rosevelt Belgrave, Jocelyn Baker, Eunice Brome, Carol Morris and many others, Father-in-law of Carlton Jordan, Marcia Belgrave and Joanne Scott, Brother-in-law of Maureen Belle, Jasmin Alleyne, Sybil Millar and Lynette Belgrave, Friend of Sir Tyrone Watkins, Dr. Waterman, Malcolm Bovell, Selwyn Belle, Jimmy Millar, Canon George Harewood, Joan Sealy and Sandra Husbands

The funeral of Carlisle Sylvester Belgrave- JP leaves Downes and Wilson Funeral Home, Eagle Hall, St. Michael, on Monday, December 18, 2017 at 1:00 p.m. for St. Stephen’s Anglican Church, Black Rock Main Road, St. Michael, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:30 p.m. for the service and interment.

The Organist and members of the Church Choir are asked to attend.
Wreaths may be sent to the Downes and Wilson Funeral Home no later than 7:00 a.m. on Monday December 18, 2017.

Relatives and friends may pay their last respects at Downes and Wilson Funeral Home from 4:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m. on Saturday, December 16, 2017.

Condolences may be sent to: www.downesandwilson.com

  • 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.