A giver in life and death

Snuggled up at the kitchen table with a coffee mug in hand the three sisters finish each other's sentences as they recount fragments of their father's life.

The picture they paint is of a man who never tired of giving, so when Denis Azzopardi announced he was giving up his body for scientific research when he died they knew better than to try and dissuade him.

Stopping to reflect on their father's noble act, his daughters - Noelle Zahra, 45, Claire Diacono, 44, and Alison Stivala, 36 - seem unfazed by the thought that his body would be dismembered by medical students in the name of research and medical advancement.

"It was a fitting end to a person who gave so selflessly throughout his life," Ms Zahra said, adding, however, that it felt a little strange to hold his funeral without a coffin.

Ms Diacono added: "It was so him that we didn't question it; it made sense."

Mr Azzopardi, 71, died of sinus cancer on May 20, and the unusual wording of his obituary - "since Denis willed his body for scientific research, his remains will not be present at the Mass" - instantly stood out.

Giving up a body for research is an unusual act in Malta. University Anatomy Department head Pierre Schembri Wismayer said the department received an average of one Maltese body every two years.

The British living in Malta are more attuned to this philosophy and about 10 a year give up their bodies to the department for anatomical examination.

Dr Schembri Wismayer said the people who gave up their bodies made a vital contribution towards the understanding and advancement of medical science.

Mr Azzopardi made the decision last year, and his children believe he was influenced by his English sister-in-law's account of her neighbours who did the same thing.

The fact that he had a rare aerated cyst on his lungs also reinforced his decision. He felt by donating his body he would facilitate research on this condition.

He immediately took to the idea and on January 20, 2008, he signed a declaration of intent, solemnly and freely declaring, ordering and directing that upon his death his body be taken over by authorised medical people.

He wrote: "I want to make this gesture of donating my mortal remains for the good of mankind."

This sentence encapsulates what their father represented: a gentleman who was a mix between a "social butterfly" and a religious man who went to Mass every day, and who never turned down anybody's request for help.

Sharing nuggets of cherished memories, Ms Stivala scrolled through her mobile phone searching for the saved text messages she used to receive from her father.

One SMS read, "Happy New Year from the depths of Mater Dei where one can still find joy, peace and serenity." That was at a time when the family was on edge, thinking he would not live another day, but nothing diminished his sense of humour.

Ms Diacono pushes her older sister to tell the story of when her father came across a woman crying at the Sacro Cuor Church, Sliema, mumbling loudly: "He does not want to listen to me."

Ms Zahra recalls: "Daddy approached her and she sobbed that Dun Gorg failed to answer her prayers to find her disabled daughter a job. Sure enough, daddy comforted her and a few days later her wish was granted. He believed God had worked through him to help someone else."

The synergy between the sisters is vibrant as they laugh at the fond memories of a father who imbued them with his positive outlook on life and chastised them whenever he overheard them complaining about something. He always urged them to be grateful for what they had.

Ms Stivala said: "He taught us a lot and he never grumbled once."

Their father also pampered his children and wife, regularly serving them coffee in bed, breakfast at weekends and nutritious school lunches, leading them to believe all men and dads were like him.

What tested their father's inner strength was their brother's struggle with muscular dystrophy, an incurable genetic disorder that gradually weakens the body's muscles.

Their father set up his own business to gain the flexibility of fitting in the time to care for his son, Dennis. Born in 1969, the boy was diagnosed with MD in 1976, and with not much awareness he championed the cause and established the Muscular Dystrophy Group.

Ms Diacono said: "He would hunt out anybody who suffered from this condition and practically bully them into joining. He would find children hidden away from society, but he involved their parents and rallied support. He also devoted his life to caring for Dennis, never complaining."

When their 21-year-old brother died in 1990, many assumed Mr Azzopardi would back down, but he became more deeply immersed in voluntary causes. If anybody needed help, be it moral, psychological or physical, he was there.

"Daddy was like cement and he would jigsaw the pieces (the people he knew) to help others. His spirit is still alive and he left us with a sense of peace," Ms Diacono said.

His daughters knew their father was special, but they never realised the impact he had left on people's lives until he died and the cards eulogising him started pouring in.

"For him it all came naturally... He was a giver through and through."

Those interested in donating their body to the University's Anatomy Department can send an e-mail to anatomy@um.edu.mt or call on 2131 9527.