Antoine Camilleri

I have always considered myself most fortunate for having a ‘nannu’ whom I cherished and loved for many years. When I was very little and since my mother was working, no school day meant a whole day at my ‘nannu’ Antoine and ‘nanna’ Daisy’s home. They use to welcome me with open arms, as if they hadn’t seen me for ages and whilst ‘nannu’ hugged me, he says ‘Look who’s here!’. As usual ‘Nanna Daiz preparing lunch whilst ‘nannu’ spoke incessantly abour Art - how to mix primary colours into secondary colours, how to observe carefully when drawing and so forth. I tip-toed to reach the tabletop whilst with great care I lay his cutlery which consisted of a heavy silver spoon, fork and knife (treasured cutlery which had belonged to his dear French mother). My nannu was my mentor, art teacher and humble friend.

We had long and enthusiastic conversations during lunch. My grandfather went down to everyone’s level, especially with us his grandchildren, which he loved immensely. He was always ready to help out with our homework (with the exception of Mathematics because ‘it wasn’t his favourite subject!’). He was always there for all our birthdays. Every single birthday, he sent each and everyone of his ten grandchildren a bright and colourful Birthday Card (‘the most expensive of all!’) signed with his memorable words ‘Love, Good Health and Peacefullness!’. Grandparents’ love is so uniquely beautiful, and my grandfather’s was special because even buying a card meant choosing it artistically with love. Till his dying days, ‘nannu’ always showered us with his love even when we hardly visited him. Back then children were not allowed to visit patients in St Luke’s Hospital except on Sunday mornings. My mother says that his very last words were “What are you doing here, go home and take care of the children!”