Valerie Borg writes:

When I heard that Charles had a terminal illness, my heart skipped a beat. He was losing weight rapidly but I thought it was due to sheer hard work. Not for one minute did I think of a serious illness.

When the horrible truth sank in I looked for him in the corridors of Mater Dei Hospital, where he was employed and found him waiting to see a family member he loved dearly. The subject of his illness never came up and I decided that, if he did not want to talk about it, neither would I.

When I too used to work at St Luke’s Hospital, I felt a certain animosity on his part towards me. Our political views were different and I put it down to that. That all ended when I needed a wheelchair for my late mother. I asked him how long it would take to be able to get a wheelchair and, wearing an endearing smile, he told me I could take it there and then.

I realised our ‘cold war’ had ended and a friendship had begun.

It will be very difficult to forget him. I will never forget the time we spent speaking about his big family. Though he had retired from work, he still returned to hospital to help someone he loved.

That was the kind of man Charles was.

I could see him getting thinner and thinner by the day and there was nothing I could do about it. You feel so helpless in such situations.

These last few weeks he rarely spoke even when I mentioned the churches in Valletta, which he dearly loved. He was at death’s door and he knew it. We all knew it. His death was no surprise to me.

He worked hard to sustain his lovely wife and children. Now it’s time for him to taste the joys of heaven. May we both resume our friendship in heaven.

Godspeed, my friend.