Jordan, Eileen Eudora

Jordan, Eileen Eudora
27 Feb

Eileen Eudora Jordan nee Blenman, age 93, also known as “Nanie” of 212 Park Road, Chancery Lane, Christ Church, faithful member of the Women’s League of the Hawthorne Memorial Methodist Church, Mother of Jean Straker of Canada, David Jordan of Mount Standfast, St James and Cheryl Jordan of Chancery Lane, Christ Church, Grandmother of Khary and Daryl Straker, Jaedon Walton and Ethan Roberts, Great-grandmother of Joshua and Emmerson Straker, Foster mother of Sandra Marchese, John Rogers and Nick Hope, Sister of the late Naaman Blenman, Sydney Browne and Elaine King, Aunt of David Blenman, Hazel Osbourne, Petrona Branch, Angela Jordan, Wendell and Hugh Browne, Relative of the Blenman, Foderingham, Earle and Nicholls families and many others, Dearest friend of Margaret Ann Codrington of t he U.S.A., the Garrett family of Trinidad, the Stewart family of Grenada, David Cox and many others..

The funeral of Eileen Eudora Jordan nee Blenman leaves the Belmont Funeral Home, Belmont Road, St. Michael, on Tuesday, 28th February 2017, at 8:15 a.m. for the Hawthorne Memorial Methodist Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet a 10:00 a.m. for the service. The cortege will then proceed to the St Barnabas Anglican Church Churchyard for the Interment.

The organist and members of the choir are asked to attend.

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

Viewing of the body will take place at the Belmont Funeral Home from 3:30 p.m. until 5:30 p.m. on Monday.

  • 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.