Parris, Lelia Oneta
14 Dec
2017

Parris, Lelia Oneta

Published in OBITUARIES P - T

Lelia Oneta Parris, age 98, of Briggs Hill, St. George and formerly of Arthur’s Gap, Tweedside Road, Carrington Vill, age, St. Michael, Mother of Brenda Parris, Marcelle Skinner, Magdalene Phillips of the U.S.A. and Ulysses Parris of the U.K., Grandmother of Romanceia, Gabriel and Prince Parris, Maria and Juliette Skinner, Astor, Ryan and Yvette Bruce, Shontelle Johnson, Victor Phillips Jr., Rebekah, Matthew and Benjamin Phillips of the U.S.A. and Wayne Parris of the U.K., Great Grandmother of thirteen, Friend of Frank and Joan Browne, Frederick Stoute, Mr. and Mrs. Harris and many others


The funeral of Lelia Oneta Parris leaves Waithe’s Funeral Home, Greens, St. George on Wednesday, December 13th, 2017 at 11:30 a.m. for Fair Field Gospel Hall, Fair Field Road, Carrington Vill, age, St. Michael, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 1:15 p.m. for the service. The cortege will then proceed to the Westbury Cemetery for the interment.


Floral tributes can be sent to Waithe’s Funeral Home not later than 11:00 a.m. on Wednesday.


Online condolences can be sent to This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

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  • 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.