You were about five years younger than me. We were brought up together: two sisters and three brothers. 

Our parents had experienced the cruelty of World War II: a shrapnel from a German bomb killed my elder sister Lydia at the age of 18 months.

Maria Attard

In our childhood, together with our other sister Lydia, brothers Anton and Giovanni, we used to play every innocent game we dreamt of. 

We grew up in the care of our loving, diligent, hard-working parents Ġużeppi and Carmela. 

We had our successes in primary and secondary classes. We spent much of our free time going to religion lessons, and enrolled as Legion of Mary members. 

Mum and dad nurtured in us the love of God. They used to wake us up to hear mass every day. And they were the happiest couple on earth when they saw us settled with a career, and then in married life.

Together with our parents we shared the indelible void and sorrow for the loss of our other sister, Lydia, aged 20.

Our mother had a soft spot for you – perhaps because you were the only daughter left, and she adored your children Nathaniel, Geoffrey George and Francesco Pio. 

You adored your husband Joe, with whom you very often recited the rosary and shared in the celebration of mass, and… you happily commemorated your 50th wedding anniversary last year. 

You dedicated your married life to Joe and your family. You were a diligent wife, mother and housewife. A woman of few words, modest and humble. A woman of great faith.

You and Joe were the happiest couple when you saw your sons Nathaniel and Francesco Pio settle in a career, and Geoffrey George ordained priest.

You had a great love and devotion for St Padre Pio, St Joseph and Our Lady of Ta’ Pinu.

The happy smile on your youthful face never faded, even though you had reached the age of 77. 

On October 2, we were all traumatised when you were diagnosed with a terminal aggressive enemy. In the days that followed, we saw you wane like a flower without water. Your smile we all cherished disappeared, and your health withered like grass, while Joe, your sons, and your brothers suffered waiting for the final merciless act. 

On November 8, you passed away peacefully, comforted by the Holy Sacraments, spirited into the arms of the Almighty.

You had a wonderful parting funerary mass – your son Geoffrey, together with another 85 priests and monsignors, concelebrated mass accompanied by ethereal music, in St George’s Basilica, which was full of a mourning, respectful congregation made up of family members, relatives and many friends, praying that you may rest in eternal life, my dear sister Maria.

We shall all miss you. Nothing and no one will ever fill the void you have left in your family, my brothers and myself.