Joseph Scicluna writes:
Neville Bajada, a beloved Gozitan youth who passed away recently, rightly deserves an elegy.
The numerous students I gave private tuition to included Neville Bajada, whose exemplary behaviour was enough for his fellow classmates to take every English lesson earnestly. His very name shed a cordial family atmosphere in the classroom.
Always in a jovial mood, Neville was the boon companion of his classmates, even though fate was at times at odds with him.
Not only did his coevals hold him high in their esteem, his juniors and seniors admired him no less. As for me, now on the right side of 90, Neville was one of my best friends despite our age disparity.
Really, cruel fate has been dogging Neville since early manhood. Having taken lovely Lisa as his wife, she gave birth to a baby boy who, though only 17 months old, is already fatherless, while this boy’s mother has become a widow.
Having intended to raise a family, Neville, stout, robust and sociable, joined the Malta Police Force. In his police uniform, Neville personified his dutiful service. He was just a simple constable hankering after no rank or degree.
His engaging character as a police constable added daily to the big number of his acquaintances and he felt at home all the time while on the beat. Alas, this job lasted for a few years and, as he often remarked to his wife, his heart was misgiving him since he felt he was no longer living in perpetual youth.
A malign disease, turning out to be painful and refractory, seized him within weeks. He had to take to bed.
No medicine, no panacea softened his pain, far less made him recover health. Like a stoic, Neville spent no time in self-pity and started taking heart of grace while refusing to be pitied.
Comforted as he was by the Holy Sacraments and the soothing words ‘Never say die’ of those around his bed, Neville knew for sure that, at long last, death was fast approaching. With his mind as lucid as ever, the moribund lay dead in peace, aged 35, in the prime of life. Yes, death came to Neville’s relief, helping him quit by all scores.
Neville’s funeral was attended by hundreds who rushed outdoors to pay him their last respects. Far from being in deep mourning dress, the huge gathering was, one and all, in bright motley colour participating in a ‘celebration’.
The Bishop of Gozo officiated a Requiem Mass for the repose of Neville’s soul at the Gozo Cathedral, packed as it was with church goers. Verily, it was not an ordinary occasion, enhanced by the address made to fit the ceremony.
The bells of several Rabat churches were by then filling the air with their tolling and their back strokes impressed the ears and hearts of all the town. What a climax when coffined Neville was to receive the most decent of burials after being led to St Mary’s cemetery. An open grave was to receive Neville’s corpse.
The chaplain started blessing Neville with holy water while a dirge was sung. Flowers were showered and kisses too as Neville was slowly lowered in the grave for his rest in peace. The salute was really as moving as it could be.
It is quite unkind of anyone to speak of Neville as being no more. His lovely memory makes us feel that he has not yet departed this earthly life. Indeed, his farewell has, in paradox, been a staggering blow to his parents Ġuża and Frankie, his widow Lisa and his brother Anthony Mario.
However, God is all merciful and surely all Neville’s relatives cannot but find comfort in the soothing thought that those whom the gods love, die young.