Greaves, Michael Colvin

Greaves, Michael Colvin
27 Feb

Michael Colvin Greaves, better known as “Colvin”, of Indianapolis, Indiana, U.S.A., formerly of Hillaby, St. Thomas and Deacons Road, St. Michael, retired Electrician of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, former Shop Steward of the National Union of Public Workers and former President of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital Sports Club, Beloved husband of Cynthia Greaves of Indianapolis, Indiana, U.S.A., Cherished father of Tricia Greaves - General Manager of the Savannah Beach Hotel and Michael Greaves of the Hyatt Hotel, U.S.A., Grandfather of Mikel Greaves, Son of the late Reverend Simeon Greaves and Evangelist Stella Greaves, Brother of Mrs. Shirley Phillips, Clairmonte, Rupert, Everton and Neville Greaves, Uncle of Kaywana and Romario Greaves and many others , Brother-in-law of O’Neil Small and Anthony Small, Cousin of Marita Worrell, Yolanda Marshall, Joyann Lewis, Malcolm and Brenda Wood, Ayesha, Corey and Craig Haniff and Tanya Cheevers, Relative of the Mayers, Francis, Johnson, Boyce, Skeete and Gill families, Friend of Oliver and Theodore White, Leonard Harewood, Ashane “Royal” Reid, Hamel and Cathy Husbands and many others.

The funeral of Michael Colvin Greaves leaves Gabriel Edghills’s Funeral Home, 102 Cane Garden, St Thomas on Friday, February 24th, 2017 at 12:30 p.m. for St. Thomas Parish Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:00 p.m. for the service, followed by the interment.

The Organist and members of the church choir are asked to attend.

Flowers may be sent to Gabriel Edghill’s Funeral Home no later than 12:00 noon on Friday.

Viewing of the body takes place in the Chapel of Gabriel Edghill’s Funeral Home, 102 Cane Garden, St. Thomas from 12:00 noon until 6:00 pm on Thursday.

  • 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.