McClean, Arlene Diana

McClean, Arlene Diana
03 Nov
2017

Arlene Diana McClean, age 58, of Carlton Road, Lower Carlton, St. James, Daughter of the late Cleveland and Caroline McClean, Mother of Sita Deochand, Shawn, Ryan, Riann and Mario McClean, Grandmother of Zachary Hollingsworth, Tariq Deochand, Kadeiann Boyce- McClean, Indika McClean- Marshall and two others, Sister of Carmen McClean and the late Eleanora McClean, Niece of Abram Holder, Aunt of Mark, Wendell, Wade and Corey McClean and many others, Great Aunt of Danell Hall and many others, Cousin of Marcia Jordan and Heather Greaves and many others, Mother-in-law of Krystal McClean, Relative of the Lynch, Holder, Cox, McClean and Collymore familes, Friend of Adolph Mayers, Margaret Anne Smith, Maria Larrier and many others


The funeral of Arlene Diana McClean leaves St. John Funeral Home, Half Moon Fort, St. Lucy on Wednesday, November 08th, 2017 at 11:00 a.m. for The Garden Seventh- day Adventist Church, The Garden, St. James, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 1:00 p.m. for the Service of Thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to St. James Cemetery for the interment.

The Organist is asked to attend.

Wreaths may be delivered to St. John Funeral Home not later than 10:45 a.m. on Wednesday, November 08, 2017.

The body will repose for viewing in the Chapel of St. John Funeral Home from 4:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m. on Tuesday, November 7, 2017.

Fond remembrances and condolences to the family may be directed to:This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. & 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.