Belle, Cecil Basil

Belle, Cecil Basil
09 Aug

Cecil Basil Belle, age 74, better known as “Ba”, of 2nd Avenue Greaves Land, Black Rock, St. Michael and formerly of Water Hall Land, St. Michael, retired Employee of Structural Systems Limited, Son of the late Murielle Nurse and Isacc Belle, Husband of Jeanette Belle, Father of Lana Smith, Jennifer Smith-Powlett, Cecil Belle Jr., Diann Phillips, Donavan and Nicholas Belle, Grandfather of Latoya Smith-Williams, Mario and Janisa Powlett, Terell Belle, Cecil Lovell, Hezekiah Phillips, Teya Weekes and Anna Belle Isaccs, Great-Grandfather of four, Brother of Neville Nurse, Ima Maynard, Gracelyn Greenidge, Gloria McIntosh and the late Olfrick, Phyllis and Lionell Nurse and Phyllis Thornton, Uncle of the late Tyrone Nurse and fourteen others, Father-in-law of Anthony Phillips and Malcolm Powlett, Brother-in-law of Calvin Smith and nine others, Relative of the Gooding and Griffith families, Friend of the Staff of Structural Systems and many others.

The funeral of Cecil Basil Belle leaves the Belmont Funeral Home, Belmont Road, St. Michael on Monday, July 30th, 2018 at 12:00 noon for New Dimensions Ministries, Barbarees Hill, St. Michael, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 1:30 p.m. for the service. The cortege will then proceed to the Westbury Cemetery for the interment.

Floral arrangements may be sent to the Belmont Funeral Home no later than 11:30 a.m. on Monday.

Viewing of the body will take place at the Belmont Funeral Home from 3:30 p.m. until 5:30 p.m. on Sunday.

  • 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.