James Borg writes:

A close friend of ours had this to say about my brother: “You can’t think of Adrian and not smile”.

These words, which ring so true, are testimony to the impact Adrian had on everyone he met. Adrian made a lot of friends in his lifetime, close friends, whom he cared about and found time for despite his busy life schedule. His outreach was limitless. No matter your nationality, skin colour, religious belief, political allegiance or family background, Adrian embraced everyone.

Sorrow is a difficult subject to write about. The pain, the helplessness, the sunken heart, the disbelief. The ‘why?’, the ‘what if?’. The immeasurable loss. I shall not write about sorrow, for what is death but a blip? Is it not the briefest moment in time dwarfed by a life well-lived? I shall not write of pain.

I choose instead to write of joy, I choose to think of Adrian and smile.

I smile Adrian, at your mere presence when you enter the room, claiming it with your personality. I smile as I pick up the phone when you call to check on me while I am away from the island on work. I smile at our growing up together in Valletta, Balzan and our summerhouse in Xemxija. Our long walks to the chapel of St Anna in the Pwales Valley, where we lay in the shadow of the large carob tree to take refuge from the scorching summer sun, with only the distant puh-puh of the farmers’ tractors ploughing the fields breaking the silence. I smile at the hundreds of books and shoes I must have thrown at you to stop you from snoring when we shared the same bedroom. I must have surely told you this, but it was a relief to finally get my own room. I have slept soundly ever since.

I smile when I think of your mischief, of your excitement when you look forward to some event. I smile when I remember sitting with you for a meal and notice you are halfway through your steak before I even had so much as picked up my fork. I smile at your recent ‘live’ broadcasts by the sea, which you loved so much. I smile when I think of your daily swims and I absolutely bellow out with laughter when I watch the video clips of your singing (invariably the same three songs).

Yasmin, Franny, and to all he cared so dearly for, weep as you must, then think of Adrian and smile.

You are here. I am with you my brother; you are with me. We are inseparable.