Headley, Ernest Clairmonte

Headley, Ernest Clairmonte
15 Nov
2017

Ernest Clairmonte Headley, age 83, better known as “Bob” or “Selassie” of 1st Street Holetown, St. James, former employee of Bullen’s Agricultural Station and Codrington Station, Brother of Elmina Headley of Canada, Calvin Headley, Oswald Headley of the U.S.A., Wendy Headley and Vileta Marshall, Uncle of Shirley and Pauline Harper, Joyce Bynoe, Ann Peters, Edwin, Colin and Melita Holder, Nicole Williams, Kim Holder-Babb, Kevin, Chemel, Stephenson and Philip Headley, Michelle Headley of the U.S.A., Heather Roulston, Nigel, Jacqueline, Nicholas and Malcolm Headley and Gail Shillingford - all of Canada, Andrew, Anthony and Lecent Headley and Ezra Brathwaite, Great Uncle of many, Great-Great Uncle of many, Brother-in-Law of Esther Headley and Pam Headley of the U.S.A., Friend of many.


The funeral of Ernest Clairmonte Headley leaves Earl’s Funeral Home, Half Moon Fort, St. Lucy, on Tuesday, November 14th, 2017 at 7:30 a.m. for Holetown Methodist Church, Holetown, St. James where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 9:30 a.m. for the Service of Thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to St. James Cemetery for the interment.


Floral tributes may be sent to Earl’s Funeral Home no later than 4:30 p.m. on Monday.


Relatives and friends can visit in the chapel of Earl’s Funeral Home, Half Moon Fort, St. Lucy to reflect the memories of Ernest Clairmonte Headley from 4:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m. on Monday.


Mourning colors are optional.


Condolences can be made online at www.earlsfuneralhome.com or visit us on facebook.

  • 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.