Claire Zammit Xuereb

I have never mentioned my father in public before, let alone written about him, for the simple reason that I always wanted to gain respect for myself and have my own achievements. These are attributes which he himself taught me, for which in turn he then suffered the consequences. He  always complained to my mother about my stubbornness, and couldn't understand how I never turned to him for any help whatsoever. My mother constantly reminded him that he's facing a mirror image.

Yes, in the end I turned out to be quite like him. I learnt to endure all the frustrations which come from being ambitious, hard-headed, independent, but yet so sensitive on the inside. In a few words, unknowingly I gave him the same kind of grief that he gave his own father who also had similar attributes, a Xuereb trait.

From the early days of my career, at the age of 'sweet sixteen,' he was my Chairman not only my Dad.

Because we are so similar in our outlook, we struggled to agree on any one thing that we expressed verbally. For the rest of it, the unspoken, we know we are at par. We understand each other with our eyes, no words need to be exchanged, but God forbid when we disagree on something as sparks fly. I thank the Lord for having a younger sister who as she grew up made my life much easier as she serves as a great go between. Together we make an exceptional team.

On a human level both my parents have been solid pillars for us. They have been through thick and thin together and taught us that good morals and values will help us face the difficulties we are bound to encounter in life.

My father is also a role model for my children, Jack and Millie, who miss their father immensely. Father's Day carries a lot of weight in my family.

I want to officially thank my father for being a pillar in my life. He taught me how to fight for what I believe in, which has come in very handy.

Mariella with her father and one of her nieces

Mariella Scerri

When he passed away... Someone paid an Ad on the newspaper which said...“Dedicated to the Man that made people smile”

My early recollections of my father were of his beautiful voice telling us colourful bedtime stories at the top of his head. 

He was a great story teller and he attracted people like bees to a honey pot. He was a comedian and would often dress up in sheets and turbans for the heck of making us laugh.

But I also knew a different father.  The father of discipline and of never being satisfied with my school results.

He pushed me and because I hated to disappoint him, I would try harder but I resented him whenever he would give me the half shrug – meaning that he expected better.

Little did I understand – that he saw in me what I did not see for myself.  He knew I could deliver and even if it broke his heart to see my disappointment – he would still keep a poker face.

‘The man who made people smile’ – had me crying many times – over curfews and short skirts – but little did I understand then how far he had raised my benchmark.

Every year on Father’s day – I watch two bulbs of Lilium that I had planted in a pot - flower – and know that he is always watching over me and raising the bar a little bit higher still.

Jeni aged 3 with her father Dennis

Jeni Caruana

My father, Dennis, is now 92 and lives on his own in southern England. He refuses any help in the house, saying he needs something to do. He grows his own vegetables, buys his own daily paper and spends the rest of his time reading or playing Patience on his iPad. He hates being old; he was always a big strong healthy man and spent his whole life working as hard as he could, determined to better himself and his family.

He was a strict father, but always fair, and my brother, sister and I were treated in exactly the same way. We were encouraged to study whatever we chose, and he supported me through 6 years of art college instead of my school’s recommended reading English at Uni. Thanks Dad!

He was born in Mtarfa Military Hospital, as his father was stationed in Malta with the British Army.

In the 70’s we came over on a family holiday, loved it, and then bought a flat in Spinola Court, one of the only blocks at the time; which is how I met my (now ex) Maltese husband.

When the three of us were in our twenties, he gave us all a sum of money to use as we wished. I put down a deposit on the house in Manikata I still live in. My brother and sister set themselves up in businesses. Without that boost, I don’t think any of us would be where we are today. Thanks again Dad!

He’s a fantastic grandfather to my two daughters. It’s difficult being so far away, especially in the current circumstances, but we did manage a Zoom meeting between us all for his birthday last month.

We spoke last night online, and raised a good glass of red to each other... Thanks, Dad!

Pippa with her father with her father Dr A.A. Pullicino on her wedding day

Pippa Darmanin

My father was the calmer of my parents who during their 30's emigrated with their five young children to the other end of the world. At the age of eleven, they landed me in an unknown environment having lost childhood friends and so I swore to myself that one day I would return “home”.

Migrant times were tight for my father and in the beginning mother had to stretch the pound to its outer limit. I often stole the extra apple from the kitchen and hid the deed by throwing the core outside my bedroom window. One day while Dad was watering the boring gardenias under my window he noticed that there was an apple sapling growing there. I begged him not to tell Mum as she would have instantly put two and two together. He never did.

Sunday mass was a four mile walk, rain or shine to a church south of the railway lines, and if we behaved he would buy us an ice cream on the way back at a “milk bar” named the “Coconut Grove”. Sometimes he would give me a penny to place on the tracks so that after mass I would find it again flattened thin by a passing train. He called them magic pennies or funny money.

I`ll never forget when he tried to teach me to drive, instead of reversing, I slammed the car right into the garage door. He forgave me, but next day booked me into a driving school !

Every now and then, tongue in cheek, he would make us laugh limping and complaining about a fictitious German bullet that army doctors were unable to remove from his leg.    He was also known for his favourite introductory joke about him being the glow worm who is “so de-lighted to meet you”.

But mostly he was loved by all for his integrity and humanity, a man both religious and spiritual. As a former MP and Speaker of the House of Representatives in Malta, and later as a High Commissioner in London and Canberra, he handled public office seriously and without the usual hubris.

These are a few thoughts and lessons of a dear soul who passed away so many years ago.

Nadia, Lara and their father ‘il Profs’

Lara Boffa

My father was an old school gentleman. He was an architect and civil engineer. A humble man he had a witty sense of humour. He was in his mid-fifties when I was born and was always protective and disciplined with my younger sister Nadia and I, yet accepting and supportive.

He was very appreciative of the little things in life; ultimately the most important, he would say.  You'd even notice a sparkle in his blue eyes if it were bacon and eggs and Cadbury chocolate for lunch. His favourite.

One time when I had turned eighteen I wanted to join my friends on a boat trip to Lampedusa. I was certain that he wouldn't approve of it so I kept my plans hush hush, only to inform my parents an hour or so before departing, since I needed a lift. He laughed it off by saying that at times its best not to ask for permission in order to avoid probable disappointment. I was surprised yet quite relieved.

He did take our schooling very seriously and would give us so many maths calculations to solve if we misbehaved, even mildly.

He'd warn us of the danger when we would be going too fast on our bicycles, the training wheels about to spin off, though he wouldn't scold us or tell us how right he was when we would sometimes fall  off. He'd help us on our bikes again.

I remember the sound of his hearty laugh best and I hope it will accompany me for the rest of my ride.

A young Shelia with her father after the Cultural Revolution in Shanghai

Dr Shelia Jin

This is the only existing childhood photo with my father thanks to the big sign on a building in the background “Long live Chairman Mao”. The rest were burned by the Red Guards during the decade-long Chinese Cultural Revolution (1966 to 1976). Thousands of my parents’ books on politics, history and classic literature were destroyed in the bonfire along with family albums and our Chinese Ming and Qing furniture.

Roberto Benigni’s film La Vita è Bella would always remind me of how my father shielded me during those terrible years.

One minute he was the boss of a large government industrial entity with hundreds of thousands employees, the next minute he was the anti-revolution capitalist sent to camps all over the country, leaving only my 10 year-old elder brother to look after me. My mother, a university professor, was also dispatched to re-education camps or to be sent to clean school libraries all over Shanghai. Needless to say our nanny and housekeeper also disappeared.

As unbelievable as it might sound, my father would always convince me to view those absurd events as a fun game. He would come home with big smiles after months of being locked away in a camp with not a word on hard labour or torture. A fracture of his hip or bruises on his face or neck were all explained away as some silly accidents. The six- year-old me would pretend to be his doctor and admonish him.

His guiding principles are honesty and propriety. In my eyes, he is perfect, almost. Although a loyal husband to my mother for more than 60 years, showing affection or being romantic is not his forte. My mother still reminds him of the surprise gift he bought her after an oversea trip: a folding ironing board.

When I left Shanghai for London to continue medicine my father saw me off at the airport with a sombre handshake. The English are not alone with a stiff upper lip.

In Shanghai, instead of “good morning/hello”, we greet each other with “Have you eaten”. Love of food holds true. Now at the age of 85 he still travels around the world to sample all manner of culinary delights. When my then three-year-old son asked him to name his three favourite animals, he unhesitatingly answered “crabs, prawns and fish”.

Jimmy Micallef Eynaud on his daughter Janet’s wedding day, 16 April 1989. (From left): Patricia, Victoria and Anne Marie

Anne Marie Darmanin

I have very fond memories of a loving , fun and happy Dad, Jimmy Micallef Eynaud. Always ready to help and make everybody laugh he was truly loved by many friends, colleagues and especially by all his nephews and nieces but most of all by his wife and four daughters.

 A great athlete in his youth the love of sport remained with him all his life. He was also a popular banker who had a great love for his girls and home. He was present in our every day life. We have lovely memories of our Sunday family lunches which he enjoyed preparing himself. He also found the time to iron our clothes when this became necessary. He would do anything for his girls. He was a great help to my mother whom he adored. Having four girls and a wife back home kept him busy. In fact he was always tending to our needs and used to refer to himself as James the butler.

He loved having our friends over especially during football competitions as he would join us and be part of the fun. He was surrounded by women. As a child he had four sisters and his mother. Later a wife and four girls. Although he used to complain that he was always surrounded by women he actually loved it.

He had a great respect for women and even during his illness he never forgot his manners towards women. His legacy lives on.

 I am so proud to be one of his daughters and even his grand children who hear so much about him as whenever you mention his name everybody knows Jimmy, Sur Jimmy, Uncle jimmy, Jimbo or Nannu Jimmy.

Until we meet again Pa. We miss your beautiful smile and gentleness.

Myriam on her wedding day, being given away by her father Joseph Borg

Myriam England

This is an opportunity to recollect and remember what a fine parent my father was to me. The truth is that I always had an excellent affinity towards him. On the other hand my mother, being of a noble family was always very strict and I felt I was never free to speak to her of any of my desires. As a child I don’t think she ever kissed or cuddled me. This contrasted strongly with my father who was with his openness the absolute opposite. In fact he was so proud of me that I often felt embarrassed. My piano playing was to his delight and whenever he had friends at home he would call me down to play to them which of course I dreaded… but his gentleness and kindness touched my heart and he always managed to persuade me. My upbringing was extremely strict rarely being allowed to express myself freely. I suppose I was considered to be rebellious. I was never allowed to venture out to play with the neighborhood children although I would secretly walk out through the gate and play with them as I was always constantly searching out for friends.

I recall that when I left school my desire was to find a job. Of course according to my mother this was absolutely unheard of. Still being very determined I persisted and was eventually allowed to teach at the Sacred Heart Convent, my former school. Having got my Montessori degree I felt that I had ventured out into a completely new free world. I recall one day asking my mother if I could borrow the car to drive to the school. She was absolutely horrified… in no way was my request to be considered. My father on the other hand acceded to my plea by giving me a wink and allowing me to take the car the next day. Being only a beginner this was an adventurous venture. I remember my father being very particular about his car and immediately amending any dent or scratch. Driving down the road within the school grounds a car coming in the opposite direction squeezed me to such an extent that I scratched the whole side of the car against the wall. I was of course terrified to return home. My father immediately recognized my dilemma and actually stood up for me, telling my mother that he was the one responsible for the damage. I can never forget his loving eyes, a moment of paternal rescue that I shall forever treasure.

My dear dad, a true gem of a father. Each morning he would come to my room, bring me coffee and open the window. He would then bend down and give me a light kiss and a morning blessing. A true man of God. Every evening he would gather us all together to recite the Rosary as a family. Often I would get a giggling fit and each time that happened, without any words after a silent pause he would start the Rosary again. Never a harsh comment.

On my wedding day, as he walked me down to our family church ‘Madonna tal-Abbandonati’ in Wardija he passed on words of wisdom which I have always valued and retained in my memory. He said ‘you know Myriam how dear you are to me. I need to tell you that life will not always be easy, there will be ups and downs and you will need to face the moment when things get difficult. In turbulent times turn to our Blessed Mother tal- Abbandonati and ask her always to help and accompany you throughout the years of your married life. You will be a mother one day and Our Lady will always be yours. She will never abandon you. Trust, love and forgiveness are the key to a happy life’. Words which to this day have provided me with lifelong guidelines. I shall forever remember them fervently and with gratitude.

A happy photo of Jackie and her father Publius

Jackie Mercieca

Ithink the person who loves me most in the world is my father. His love is unconditional, constant and consistent. He is gentle and very kind, generous and his patience has no limits. He is a family man, always worked very hard and was very present in our lives. Still is. He is always there for my sister and I and our families, even if he is in pain or tired. We all think I look more like him than I do my mother. Daddy and I are both very affectionate, we hug a lot, kiss a lot, say I love you a lot and he never leaves me without giving me his blessings – kun imbierka.

One of my earliest memories is when I was four and mummy was in hospital to give birth to my sister. It was probably the first time I had spent a whole day with him alone. I remember us playing together and I was constantly asking where mummy was and when was she going to cook – his cooking was atrocious.

When I was about seven, I used to feel bad that he didn’t have a son to share and watch football with, so I decided to start loving football. Sometimes he would take me to Ta’ Qali with him to watch the Greens play. He was also an England supporter so I supported the Italians so we could argue, tease each other and have fun.

When my sister and I were younger, he was quite a disciplinarian. We both used to get punished and sometimes grounded. I’m sure I wasn’t easy, always being headstrong, knowing what I want and determined to have it my way. But he was always very open minded and ‘modern’ so that made things easy. My dad and I never argue. I can’t argue with him, he is too kind, though sometimes he drives me insane with politics.

Daddy is so much fun and makes us laugh and I love being with him and I pray that life will not take him away from me.