Frank R. Williams, Jr., 60
Frank was born to Frank and Alice Williams at St. Luke’s hospital in Jacksonville, Florida.
He attended Elementary school at the then J. Allen Axson Elementary School. Frank’s first 11 years were spent in the Springfield area of Jacksonville where he made lifelong friends. Frank moved with his mother and younger brother, Ward, to Long Beach, NY in 1973 where Frank finished school and graduated from Long Beach High School in 1979.
Frank was a dedicated worker, spending most of his career working for medical facilities in New York. He started his career in Long Beach and later moved to Brooklyn where he worked for Triborough Healthcare Management, as the office manager in charge of the billing department. Frank worked for Triborough from approximately 1999 to 2005 when he moved back to Florida.
Frank had an amazing memory for people he met, and circumstances in life. Frank enjoyed spending time with his friends, both in Florida and New York and had a lifetime bond and deep affection for each of them.
Frank’s hobbies and past times included a voracious passion for reading books and preparing large holiday meals for his family.
After returning to Florida Frank spent the next 16 years caring for his aging parents full time. This was a long and difficult time, but Frank expressed no regret in the end.
Frank is preceded in death by his father, Frank R. Williams; his mother, Alice A. Canner; and stepfather, Richard Canner.
Frank is survived by his siblings, Robert Williams (Mary), Lynn Petrucci, Alice Crews (Roland) and Ward Williams, as well as many nieces, nephews, cousins, uncles and aunts.
A private memorial service will be held per Frank’s wishes.
Arrangements are under the care of Russell Haven of Rest Cemetery, Funeral Home and Cremation Center, 2335 Sandridge Road, Green Cove Springs, FL 32043. Family and friends may share their condolences at: www.RHRFH.com 904-284-7720
Our embattled lives on earth are not all there is.
This is the opening act—the warm-up, the beginning.
This is Hotel Earth—not home.
We can think differently in our grieving because of the revolution made possible by the resurrection. Jesus added a transformative word to the word life—everlasting. It’s in the “everlasting” zone that we find meaning for our pain, healing for our brokenness, and hope for our “hopelessness.”
It is our choices that determine whether life’s hard hits take us to a bitter place or a better place. And the foundation for choices where hope wins is a cross on a hill and a tomb that is empty.
Standing there, we are ready to confront the hurt and the loss that make hope so hard to hang onto.
The Savior who carried a cross is there to help me carry my burden.
And, when I am too weak to go on, He even carries me.
This Savior who is weaving my life here into an eternal tapestry says in my dark time, “This isn’t the story—this is only a chapter.”
This death-crushing Jesus stands by me at a fresh grave and whispers, “This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.” It’s the unseen but certain hope that energizes a buoyant confidence, defying life’s deepest hurts and darkest valleys.
Hope has a name.
His name is Jesus.
He is living hope.