Charles Jenkins was born on June 13, 1945, in Charleston, South Carolina, to the late Anna Chisolm Jenkins and Prince Allen Jenkins. As the fourth oldest of twelve children, Charles grew up surrounded by family, and those close family ties helped shape his love, loyalty, and strong sense of protectiveness for his family. Charles attended Burke High School, where he enjoyed playing football and basketball. He was active, competitive, and took pride in being part of a team. As a teenager, Charles worked after school as a cashier at KFC. He understood the importance of helping his family and would give part of his paycheck to his mother to help with household bills. It was an early reflection of the love, generosity, and responsibility he carried for his family throughout his life. After high school, Charles joined Job Corps and was sent to California, where he trained in the electrical trade. After completing Job Corps, Charles made his way to New York City in search of greater opportunities and a better life. New York became home, and it was there that he built the life and family that meant so much to him. He loved New York so much that getting him to visit the South was out of the question; Harlem was truly where his heart was. It was in New York that Charles met Henrietta Green, and from the very beginning, she swept him off his feet. After dating for one year, they were united in marriage on October 16, 1970. Together, they built a life, raised their family, and created countless memories. Even in the days before he left this earth, they still shared conversations about life and, of course, their numbers a bond that remained until the very end.When Charles and Henrietta married, Catrice became part of the family they built together. They later welcomed their daughters, Charlene and Regina. Charles loved his family deeply, and being a father and grandfather meant everything to him. Charles believed in working hard and providing for his family. Over the years, he worked at Kaufman Pharmacy, as a pharmacy clerk, and as a bellman at the Waldorf Hotel. He was dependable, hardworking, and proud of the work he did. After retiring, Charles continued giving back by volunteering at a local pantry. Anyone who knew Charles knew he had a one-of-a-kind personality. He was outgoing, friendly, talkative, and could strike up a conversation with just about anyone. His love for family was always evident, especially in the way he protected his brothers and sisters and cherished his daughters. Charles truly enjoyed life in his own way. He loved going outside, playing his numbers, talking and laughing with friends, and watching football, basketball, and his favorite Westerns. He also enjoyed a good debate and always had to have the last word. Charles also loved to cook and often invited family and friends over to share a good meal, laughter, and conversation. For him, a good meal was about more than the food; it was about sharing time with the people he cared about. On August 6, 2026, Charles peacefully transitioned from this earthly life. Though saying goodbye is difficult, we find comfort in knowing that he is no longer suffering and is finally free from pain. Charles leaves to cherish his memory his loving daughters, Charlene and Regina; his grandchildren, Alina, Dennis Jr., Kevin, Darnae, Daquan, and Donnell; his great-grandchildren; his siblings, Joe Jenkins, Louis Jenkins, Betty Jenkins, and Millie Jenkins; his sister-in-law, Vicki Jenkins; and a host of nieces, nephews, cousins, extended family members, and dear friends. He was preceded in death by his beloved daughter, Catrice Elizabeth Montgomery; his parents, Anna Chisolm Jenkins and Prince Allen Jenkins; and other cherished loved ones who went before him. Charles will be remembered for the conversations, the laughter, the debates, the meals he shared, the love he had for his family and friends, and simply for being Charlie. Dad, your work here is done. No more suffering. No more pain. We will carry your love, your strength, your laughter, and your memory with us forever. Rest peacefully, Dad, until we meet again.