In his last years, Ċensu Tabone became frail but he never lost that glowing glint in his eyes and his gentle smile never failed. Whenever one of us tried to help him, he would remark: “it is I who has to help you, not you”.
I could have bet anything that the determined Ċensu, who fought every argument and held his point to the last, would develop into an impossible character in the end of his days. Had I bet, I would have lost miserably.
Ċensu Tabone, Ċensinu to the Gozitans, would have celebrated his 100 years today had he not left this earth a year ago. God blessed him with a long life and Ċensu blessed God for this to the end. And he did so with the very life he lived since he used every second to the best of his abilities, whether in his medical or political capacity. He always considered himself mainly a medical doctor but politics ran deep in his blood. His genuine belief in offering his service to all and sundry without favour, irrespective of colour or creed, religion or political belief, was a constant factor in his entire life.
He entered politics at the height of his medical career, missing the chance to reap what he had sowed internationally in that field but he did this to be of service to his country. Politics was for him a vocation. What an example to follow!
He was actively there in historic moments of this country, such as the fight for Independence when, as secretary general of the Nationalist Party, he accompanied George Borg Olivier for the London talks or when, in Opposition, he adhered to the creation of the Republic and, later, when, as Minister of Foreign of Affairs, he reopened the negotiations for entry in the European Union.
He would never express a harsh word towards those with a different political belief, though standing for his beliefs to the very end. The other person or adversary (never enemy) always retained his/her full dignity and right to be loved, whatever the cause.
Perhaps his international success in the medical field remained his apex, not of glory but of service to millions who were saved their eyesight through his medical discovery to fight trachoma and his personal hard work all over the world, sometimes in the most difficult parts of a jungle in the Far East, far away from the comforts of his home.
During his Presidency, he worked hard and most effectively by example to be a unifying factor among his kinsmen. From a boycotted President he developed into a President loved by all sides of the political camp.
The accolades that resounded from all the different political parties at his death were not the usual polite and clinically-cared for words one normally hears in such occasions. They were words that were felt and, most of all, well deserved. The warmth shown by thousands during his funeral, so many years after his political life had ended, was living proof of the love he engendered.
A life well spent is a prayer. A life well lived is a lesson. A life well experienced is a treasure trove. His essential Christian beliefs, which he held on to every moment of his life, never turned him into a bigot. On the contrary, his beliefs served the very basis to love all as oneself. Some prefer to call that good natured. I prefer to call it Christian values.
Ċensu is still missed by his children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and so many others but most of all and in particular by his beloved wife, Maria.
She travels to Gozo at least twice a week to visit his grave and see that there are always fresh flowers on Ċensu’s resting place. Very often, she finds flowers left by unknown visitors. And, every time, she chides him gently for leaving her, ending with the now proverbial statement: “it is not fair. You have left me and you are enjoying yourself with your friends up there”. She utters these words with utmost belief.
At the age of 93, and after 70 years of marriage and unwavering love, she may be right to feel left out from the peace, glory and intense happiness that Ċensu is enjoying somewhere up there where time melts into unfathomed eternity. She may thus be right after all.