Appreciation - Mario Galea Testaferrata

George Attard, writes:

Losing an old friend is traumatic and painful. Mario is no longer with us and his loss is deeply felt.

I have known Mario for nearly 40 years, mainly through his dear wife, Rose. But it was when we both joined the Mdina local council that we became very close. Our encounters became almost daily usually at my house for breakfast when we would plan the day.

He was my trusted contact with the secretary of the council. He was loyal, hard-working, a mine of information and absolutely dependable.

His was a somewhat complex character: a will of iron and nerves of steel when the occasion warranted it but then if he was given genuine respect and affection his generosity knew no bounds. And that, unfortunately, was his weakness.

His word was always his bond and there were occasions when this trust was abused of. And this hurt him deeply. Time and again he would come to me and express his sadness even to the point of becoming emotional. I always felt inadequate in my poor efforts to comfort him. Cracking a joke always did the trick.

He would smile and then laugh and then pay me the ultimate compliment when he would tell me that coming over for a chat was well worth his while.

And this is what I want to celebrate: Mario's ability to laugh and the best laughs were at himself. One memorable occasion was when, during a council meeting, Mario made a rather long-winded presentation of a motion he wanted introduced. Once done he promptly settled in his chair and began snoring ever so softly - much to the amusement of the secretary and the other councillors. I had to go through the motions of inviting the others to express their opinion regarding the motion. When I put the motion to the vote, Mario was still in cloud nine. I gently nudged him and asked him to vote. He got up with a start and gave a frightful screech: "Kontra!" (against) he declared to all Mdina.

We were all in hysterics. "It's your motion, Mar," I said. Mario looked at us rather confusedly and, realising what was going on, was promptly gripped by an uncontrollable and infectious fit of laughter. That was it. I had no option but to adjourn and lock up. We giggled all the way home where my wife, Joanna, had dinner ready for us.

This is how I will always remember Mario - his mischievous grin.

Finally, to his children Camilla, James, Maria and Simon and their respective families, my sincere condolences and regards.