Husbands, Coswin Rhuedol

Husbands, Coswin Rhuedol
09 Aug

Coswin Rhuedol Husbands, age 79, of Crusher Site, Prospect, St. James, retired Body Workman, Companion of Marina King, Father of Joan Griffith-Taylor, Collette Linton of Canada and Roger Husbands of the U.K., Stepfather of Shawne King, Brother of Ernesta Weekes, Lucil Green, Adeline Jordan, Reginald Green and Keith Alleyne both of the U.K., Vonleigh Alleyne of Canada, Dylise Maingot of the U.S.A., Wilfred, Celeste and Edwin Alleyne, Grandfather of Shamara and Shawnico King and A’maiyah King-Johnson, Uncle of Sherwin Jordan and fourteen others, Cousin of Beresford and Grantley Husbands and many others, Relative of the Husbands, Campbell and Griffith families, Friend of Ingrid King and many others.

The funeral of Coswin Rhuedol Husbands leaves Keith Jones Funeral Home, Passage Road, St. Michael on Friday, July 27, 2018 at 12:30 p.m. for Paynes Bay Methodist Church, Payne’s Bay, St. James, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 2:00 p.m. for a Service of Thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to the St. James Cemetery for the interment.

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

Flowers may be sent to Keith Jones Funeral Home no later than 12:00 noon on Friday.

A collection for the Restoration of the Church Hall will be greatly appreciated.

Visitation will take place in the Chapel of Keith Jones Funeral Home from 4:30 p.m. until 6:30 p.m. on Thursday.

Condolences can 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.