White, James Livingston

White, James Livingston
14 Sep

Better known as “Boadick”, of Golden Towers Nursing Home and formerly of Hoyte’s Village, St. James and Lemon Arbour, St. John. Retired Employee of the Ministry of Transport and Works. Husband of the late Marlene White.

Son of the late Belfield Walcott and Gwendolyn Walcott nee White.

Father of James and Joseph Harewood – Employee of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Stephanie McCollin – of the Royal Barbados Police Force. Stepfather of Sherill Knight, Derrick and Christopher Williams.

Brother of Fitzgerald White, Phylis Crookendale and the late Vernese Walcott-Clarke “Desa”. Brother-in-law of Winslow Clarke.

Grandfather of Kay Gordon of the U.S.A., Raymond, Tiffanie, Ashley,  Jakeel, Jerome, Nia, Rashan, Dario Dylan and Amiya. Great-grandfather of Janique and Ariel.

Uncle of Shaun, Paul and Wayne White of the U.K. and the late Anthony Walcott.

Relative of the White, Padmore, Waithe and Walcott families. Friend of many.

The funeral of James Livingston White takes place on Wednesday, September 19th, 2018 at 10:00 a.m. at the St. John’s Parish Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet for service of thanksgiving. The cortege will then proceed to St. John Cemetery for interment.

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

Flowers may be sent to Bryan’s Funeral Home not later than 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday.

The body will repose at the church from 9:00 a.m. until the start of the service on Wednesday.

Funeral arrangements entrusted to Rowe’s Funeral Service

  • 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.