Chase, Shamar Damon Leon

Chase, Shamar Damon Leon
09 Oct

Shamar Damon Leon Chase, age 16, also known as “Debour”, of Bright Hill #2, St. Patricks, Christ Church, Past Student of Reynold Weekes Primary School and St. George Secondary School, Son of Percy Chase of P.I.R.G Muffler and Tyre Centre and Makita Broome-Chase of No. 1 Beauty Supply Incorporated, Grandson of Margaret Trotman, Roosevelt Broome, Perry and Evaline Chase, Brother of Shaunika Nurse, Chrisann, Shaquille and Kiara Chase, Uncle of Three, Nephew of Grantley and Patricia Stoute of the U.S.A., Roslyn Jones, Roosevelt Broome, Sophia Weekes and Eight others, Great-nephew of many, Cousin of many, Godson of Nicole, Cherry-Ann, Hamilton and Caswell, Relative of the Broome-Chase, Weekes, Prescod and Stoute families, Sandra Worrell and family and Roslyn St. Hill and family, Friend of the Staff of No. 1 Beauty Supply, Cherish Cosmetique and many others.

The funeral of Shamar Damon Leon Chase leaves Anderson Funeral Home, Lower Barbarees Hill, St. Michael on Monday 08th October, 2018 at 2:00 p.m. for St. Patricks Anglican Church, St. Patricks, Christ Church where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 4:00 p.m. for the service of Thanksgiving, followed by the interment.

The Organist and Choir members are asked to attend.

Floral arrangements may be sent to Anderson Funeral Home no later than 1.30 p.m. on Monday.

The body of Shamar Damon Leon Chase will repose for viewing from 3:00 p.m. until the start of the service.

No mourning colours by Special Request.

Condolences may be sent to andersonfuneralhome@caribsurf>

  • 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.