Fagan, Frank Gerald

Fagan, Frank Gerald
27 Feb
2017

Frank Gerald Fagan, of Savannah Road, Bush Hall, St. Michael, retired Bus Driver of the Barbados Transport Board and former Owner and Driver of Z1038, Son of the late Doris Fagan, Husband of Joyce Ward-Fagan, Father of Carson Greaves, Dionne Jordan-Smith and Kimberley Jordan, Grandfather of six, Brother of Erminda Humphrey, Serena Beckles, the late Rudolph and Mervin Fagan, Uncle of Joyann, Vibbian, Ryan, Rodney, Corey, Kendra, Joyce and six others, Cousin of Phyllis Fagan-Corbin, Great-Uncle of many, Brother-in-law of Ryvan Humphrey J.P., Kenrick Beckles, Pastor Gloria Small, Reverend Kenrick Ward, Orietta Fagan and nine others, Father-in-law of David Smith, Relative of the Fagan, Jemmott and Headley families, Friend of Tarzan Waithe, Elsa Greaves, Hazel and Dennis Jordan, Wilfred Greene, Hazel Morris, Joyce Fields, the Dunnah family and many others.

The funeral of Frank Gerald Fagan leaves Anderson Funeral Home, Lower Barbarees Hill, St. Michael on Tuesday, February 28th, 2017 at 8:15 a.m. for the Abundant Life Assembly, Bank Hall, St. Michael, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 10:00 a.m. for the service. The cortege will then proceed to the Westbury Cemetery for the interment.

Floral arrangements may be sent to Anderson Funeral Home no later than 7:45 a.m. on Tuesday.

The body of Frank Gerald Fagan will repose for viewing in the Chapel of Anderson Funeral Home from 5:00 p.m. until 7:00 p.m. on Monday and at the Church from 9:00 a.m. until the start of the service.

Condolences may be sent to: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

  • 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.