Lynch, Takyla J’Tonia

Lynch, Takyla J’Tonia
14 Dec
2017

Takyla J’Tonia Lynch, age 2, of Dean’s Village, Hindsbury Road, St. Michael, Daughter of Patricia Hunte and Anthony Lynch, Grand-Daughter of Sylvia Hunte, Olivia Lynch, Ulrick Crichlow and Theophilus Walcott, Sister of Antwan’ Lynch, Nakobi Layne, Neacko Hunte, Niece of Kirt, Felicia and Jerone Hunte, Merlene, Kayann and Jenelle Lynch, Cousin of many,

Goddaughter of Shane Mullin, Samantha Powers, Shawn Howell, Faye Thompson, Michelle Maitland and Nicole Niles.

The funeral of Takyla J’Tonia Lynch leaves L.E. Smith Funeral Home, St. Michael’s Row at 12:00 noon on Saturday December 16th, 2017 for The Church of the Nazarene, Collymore Rock, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 1:30 p.m. for a Service of Thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to the Westbury Cemetery for the interment.

Floral tributes may be delivered to the L. E. Smith Funeral Home, St. Michael’s Row no later than 11:00 a.m. on Saturday.

Viewing takes place in the Chapel of L. E. Smith Funeral Home from 3:00 p.m. until 5:00 p.m. on Friday 15th, December, 2017.

No mourning colours by special request.

Condolences may 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.