Bertrand Spiteri writes:

When, last Thursday morning, I walked into the office I had shared with Paul Borg Costanzi and another colleague for a number of months and looked at his desk it was very hard to believe that Paul would not be sitting there any more, wearing his mischievous look and that we would not exchange morning pleasantries again while discussing the day’s breaking news.

I had not known Paul for long. I only joined the firm towards the end of 2013 and Paul had rejoined a few months later. As fate would have it, we ended up working in the same function and sharing an office space.

I could not say that we had much in common in terms of our professional skills because I know very little about information technology, other than how to boot a computer and, when required, to clumsily fumble around a spreadsheet. I understand nothing at all compared to Paul’s renowned expertise in the field. He derived great satisfaction from designing user-friendly solutions, systems that are being used and will continue to be used.

However, I do like to think that we had found other common ground and that we had become friends.

In the short time I had the privilege of knowing him, Paul became more than just an office mate or just another work colleague. He was a gentle man and also a gentleman in all his dealings. Despite the inevitable stresses caused by the work ethic within the corporate world, Paul never had a bad word to say about anyone or anything, for that matter, not even when one could sense that something or someone had annoyed him. He would just raise an eyebrow and get on with it.

Paul had an incredibly keen and focused intellect and a sharp mind. He also had his unique dry wit and that subtle, if not wicked, sense of humour. You would not want to be the person on the wrong side of one of his precise comebacks or left floundering for something to say in response to a trademark retort, although these were always gentle and never unkind.

Paul was one of those rare people who complemented his wit with very economical but highly articulate and diplomatic use of language. I spent the better part of my working life in the United Kingdom and Paul would have been very much at home in that environment.

We knew that Paul had been unwell, to a certain extent, for some time. But he bore this with dignity and an understated fortitude. He never complained about or made any excuses in spite of his condition. When his father unexpectedly passed away, Paul maintained his fortitude. And when, sadly, his condition dramatically worsened and the outlook became bleaker, Paul did not indulge in self-pity.

I never got to tell him this, but observing his sense of purpose was a means of encouragement for me over the months that I shared a loved one’s final journey. Paul had offered his support in his own inimitable way and was always ready to listen, offer a smile of encouragement and support, which said much more than any words could.

Throughout his own journey, he remained dedicated to his work and supportive of his colleagues. Most of all, he remained dedicated to his beloved wife, Mariella, and his beautiful children, Yulia and Vadim.

My colleague, Ivan, and I continue to look at the empty desk in our office, incredulous that Paul’s time with us has come to what was an untimely end. But Paul’s legacy will remain. Together with all our other colleagues at the firm, we know that he made the most of his time, touched many in different ways and he will not easily be forgotten.

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