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Fr Julian's Prayers & Quotes

Fr Julian's Prayers & Quotes

Remembering my father, John Cassar

Obituary as it appeared in the Times of Malta January 6th and 7th, 2002 CASSAR, on January 4 suddenly at his home in St. Julian's, John, aged 76, passed peacefully away comforted by the rites of Holy Church. He leaves to mourn his loss his beloved wife Mary née Scicluna, his children Josephine, Rosemarie Garzia, widow of the late Carmelo, Father Julian of New York USA, Paul and his wife Kathleen Mary (Kay) née Belton, Marcel and his wife Maria née Grech, his dear grandsons Julian and Peter, his surviving sister Concetta Micallef, many cousins, nephews and nieces, other relatives and friends. - R.I.P. The Funeral leaves St Luke's Hospital on Monday January 7th at 9:30 a.m. for St Julian's Parish Church, where Mass præsente cadavere will be said at 10 a.m., followed by interment in the family grave at the Santa Maria Addolorata Cemetery. No flowers by request, but the family appreciates donations to the Monastery of the Poor Clares, St. Julian's. May God grant eternal rest to such a loving and caring husband, father, grandfather and friend to all who needed him.

Mrs Mary Cassar, together with her children Josephine, Rose-Marie Garzia, Father Julian, Paul and his wife Kay, Marcel and his wife Maria, and her two grandchildren Julian and Peter would like to thank the Rev. Clergy who concelebrated Mass, the many relatives and friends who attended the funeral, sent flowers, donations, sympathy cards or called at home to show support and condolence, or expressed sympathy in any way on the sudden and sad loss of a beloved husband, father and nannu JOHN CASSAR who went to meet the Lord on January 4th 2002. Please remember him in your prayers - Lord grant him eternal rest.

Commemoration With heartfelt love we commemorate a life, Dedicated wholly to family, friends and wife. A life of willing sacrifice, and abundant love, Aided always by a devoted trust in God above. Contrasting sorrow surrounds us all now, The way ahead is clouded, to continue how? With this sensation of agonizing grief, The intense and perpetual feeling of unbelief. Now all is a void, a space never to be erased, A different way of life, a sadder, lonelier phase. But we must go on, the new day will dawn, The clocks will still strike to herald the morn. Remember his life was lived so completely, Everything set right and always so neatly. Pain will ease with each new tomorrow, We have his guiding light now to follow. He is there in Heaven, safe within Gods arms, Watching over us now, keeping us from harm. At peace with the Father of his prayers, No longer any pain, no longer any cares. Thank you God, the Father of us all, For giving us this man who walked so tall. Who showed by example, set the path we should lead, Who was never corrupted by avarice and greed. May the wealth of his goodness and kindness abounding, Find a special place beside you in life everlasting. written by Kay Cassar

Over the past 20 years, me and my parents have exchanged hundreds of letters across the ocean. There wasn't one single week that we didn't write to each other, except for when I'm visiting them or they're visiting me. I have saved many of these letters, some of which were just household, domestic news, but invariably, my dad always had those little wise insights into things, and recommendations about decisions I have to take, and timely advice any father is entitled to give to his son, even if he's a priest. This is one of the very last letters my father sent to me, on the 13th on November 2001, and in Maltese it mentions the air-plane crash in Far Rockaway Queens, the fear of terrorism, my annual retreat, the cold weather finally reaching Malta, the flower bulbs sprouting, the usual update on my nephews Julian and Peter, and wishing me a Happy Feast day on the feast of St Stanislaus Kostka. This is the neat, yet at times tired handwriting of my father, writing in Maltese.....

My parents with my older sister Josephine when they last visited me at Pleasant Valley, here seen in the Sanctuary just after one of my weekday morning Masses in the newly-renovated Church, in October 2000.

This is a memorable photo of a historic sunset I took on Friday January 4th 2002, only three hours before my father entered into eternal life. I took this picture in Gozo, from Xaghra, overlooking Victoria, and I can see the hand of God reaching out from the heavens to call dad to his new home. This is surely one of the best pictures I ever took, for  more than one reason.

These are the last 2 pictures we took of our father, on New Year's Day, January 1st 2002, just after our parents had cooked and served us with a delicious meal, complete with soup, lasagna, chicken, pork, dessert, and the pleasure of their company, unfortunately together for the last time. Following the meal we exchanged gifts, Peter and Julian being the most prolific recepients.

The day God called you home . . . . . . January 4th 2002, this specatcular sunset appeared in the Maltese skies. . .just three hours before you were welcomed into heaven . . . .

My father died at 8:15 PM, just after him and my mother had said the Rosary together, as they did every day for 53 years of their life together.

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My Father . . . . his early years . . . My father was born on March 26th 1925 in St Julian's, the son of Joseph Cassar and Maria nee Magri, the sixth of seven surviving children. Only one sister is now still alive, Concetta. Their father died in 1935, when my father was only 10 years old and at the start of World War II. Their father Joseph was well known in St Julian's as the co-founder of the St Julian's Band Club, who along with my great uncle Fr. Paul Galea gathered a group of young men from the area and in 1927, the St Julian's Band Club was started, also attaining the services of a musician from Birkirkara, Angelo Pullicino, who eventually became the Bandleader for over 40 years. The entire Cassar family experienced much poverty during the war, but grew up in a happy environment, close to their Church and close to one another. My father was always with Fr Paul Galea, whose niece was Mary Scicluna, the eldest daughter of Paul and Rosina Scicluna. I guess my father used to see Mary frequently, and eventually fell in love with her. Towards the end of the war, my father became a policeman, starting as a Constable, and later becoming a Sergeant, with the number 337.  My father served in the Malta Police Department until 1971, in various capacities, mostly as a clerk at the Government Burial Office at the Palazzo Castellania in Valletta.

My father in 1951

337    337   337           337 337 337  337  337  337  337  337  337     337   337      337   337

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My brother Marcel's Wedding picture with Maria Grech, after their Nuptial Mass at the Cathedral Church in Victoria, Gozo, on the 21st of May 1989. Maria's parents are on the left, and our parents are on the right. The reception was held at Ta' Frenc Restaurant in Marsalforn, Gozo

My sister Rosemarie's Wedding picture taken at the Suncrest Hotel, Qawra on the 2nd of September 1989. the Nuptial Mass was help at the St Julian's Old Lapsi Church. From left to right are Maria and Marcel, my sister Josephine, my father John, Rosemarie and her late husband Carmelo Garzia, my mother Mary, my brother Paul, and myself at the far right

My parents relaxing at Holy Spirit Rectory in New Hyde Park, back in September 1988

My parents during a 40th Anniversary reception held in their honor at Holy Spirit Parish Auditorium in New Hyde Park, New York following a Mass in the Parish Church. Their actual anniversary was on July 24th 1988.

Homily for my father's Funeral Mass - JOHN CASSAR - January 7th 2002 In the name of my mother, my brothers and sisters, and my two nephews, I'd like to thank all the priests, relatives and friends of our family who are gathered here this morning to give thanks to God and celebrate the life of my father John, or Johnny, as many of you know him. I thank you for your prayers and many other forms of support which our family needs so much at this hour and in the coming days. As we say in one of the prayers at Mass: "For those who die, life is not ended but just beginning." I believe that my father is spiritually and emotionally in our midst as he was before. Yes, we are separated from his physical body, but we will never part from his spirit. People like Mother Theresa and Monsignor Michael Azzopardi (A Maltese philanthropic and generous priest) were once separated from us, but their spirit and the values in which they believed in, will always remain in our hearts, in our souls and in our minds. The tremendous amount of good that my father accomplished was done with sincere and genuine humility. Whether he was painting a room, or plastering a roof before the rainy season, whether he was decorating a cake or weeding a garden, whether he was ironing a mountain of clothes or preparing a rabbit or a chicken for us to eat, he did everything with a sincere interest, sheer joy and a total commitment. In one of the letters he used to write to me every week, precisely on the occasion of my parents' 50th Anniversary 3 years ago, I remember my dad writing to me that the best things that ever happened to him was when he met my mother. . . . . they knew each other since they were very young, and got married young too, but the way they raised our family is nothing short of a masterpiece. I do not say this just to show off, but those who knew him well, know exactly what I mean. , I remember my dad writing to me that the best things that ever happened to him was when he met my mother So today we honor a generation of parents the like of which we will probably never see again in the history of child-education and family upbringing. Let me share with you some of the experiences that I remember from my father, some of which he told me himself, others I experienced them myself. He used to recall the hardships he experienced during World War II during which time he was still a youngster. Once he found a pair of shoes belonging to a British sailor and wore them for two weeks straight, as he was afraid another boy would steal them from him. On another occasion he was sent by his mother to buy a case of tomatoes from Madliena (5 miles away from home), and when he reached his home at St Julian's, the case was empty as he was starving, and ate all the tomatoes. Following the end of the war, my dad entered the Police Department, a career which he served with pride, honor and impeccable devotion. He was loved, respected and fulfilled his duties with utmost dedication, and gave his life, heart and soul to help retain order in our nation, which was going through some troublesome period. It was the highlight of my week when he used to take me or my brother to his Office, where we ended up playing with everything we found on his desk. In a letter sent to him in 1971 by the ex-Police Commissioner Vivian deGray, he wrote about my father: " Mr John Cassar worked under me in the Police Force for over 25 years. He was always employed on clerical duties to the full satisfaction of his superiors. Mr Cassar is a courteous, respectful, capable, conscientious and reliable clerk of unimpeachable probity and integrity." In 1948, my mother and father were married and had 5 children between 1949 and 1964, Josephine and Rose-Marie, myself and Paul , and since were very close in age and since they always dressed us alike, many people thought that my parents had two sets of twins. Then came Marcel, and since we were much older than him, he found himself being raised by 6 parents instead of two. Undoubtedly they treasured us and loved us to no end, and the timely discipline we experienced from them, molded us into fine young people, respected wherever we went and wherever we worked. I remember close to the end of the late 50s, my father was one of the first in our hometown to have a telephone installed in our house, not only because he was a police officer, but also because he believed this was a service to his community. Who knows how many neighbors came to our house, literally day and night, to make a phone call to a doctor or in any other emergency, and my parents welcomed them all in to use the phone. At the same time we were one of the few families who had a Television in our house, a good old Black-and White Telefunken, and even this item served as a generous service to our friends and neighboring community. Who knows how many people stopped by to watch the Pope on TV, or to witness any other historic event in the late 50s and early 60s. And who knows how many young men and friends of my father used to come to watch Soccer matches with him, especially during the World Cup of 1958, only to see my mother on her knees soon after they left, washing the floor when of the guys crushed a cigarette butt under his shoes on one of those stone-slabs that made up the entire floor. My annoying role at that time was to ask him 50 times during a 45 minutes soccer period "How many minutes are left ? How many minutes are left ?" And he would patiently answer me every time, even checking his watch to give me the exact time that was left. The only time that I ever remember him getting angry at me was when I was 10 years old. We had a pet canary in a cage and I had mischievously plucked his tail-feather, the longest feather and the pride of every canary alive. Then there was the day during Lent when I missed him the most. My mother used to make broad-beans soup with kous-kous and onions and garlic once a week during Lent. But there was one day during Lent when my dad had to go to Church for the Spiritual Exercises, Sermons preached for men during a week-long Parish Mission, and it was impossible for me to slip those onions and garlic into my father's plate, as I used to do every time we had kous-kous for Dinner. On my mother's insistence, I had no choice but to eat everything, or she would shove it down even through my nose. The love they shared with us was repeated over and over again during the last 11 years since the birth of Julian and Peter, who are the apple of their eyes. When my nephews are visiting at home, my parents will feel so rejuvenated and become like young people again, so much they enjoyed their presence, even if they occasionally they were not on their best behavior. The Christian and spiritual education we received from them is a priceless memory. Their example was always sincere, authentic and built on a strong foundation. Someone once said: "Children have never been known to obey their parents, but they never fail to imitate them." On their example, I doubt if ever one of us children missed a Sunday Mass. I doubt if ever in their 53 years of Marriage they went to sleep without saying the Rosary together, and all of us together when we were still all at home. He was so proud of knowing the Litany in Latin by heart, especially since I did not know it by heart, neither in Maltese nor in Latin. In fact the last thing they did together before my father was called to Eternal life, was to listen to an interview I gave on RTK Radio (which was like a short biography of my Priesthood) and then said the Rosary along with the Poor Clares Sisters. In the past 20 years I was physically separated from them, but spiritually I never felt closer to them as in these past 20 years. They were always happy that I spent every single day of vacation time with them here in Malta, and because of this they were able to enjoy my presence much more than if I had stayed here in Malta. They came to visit me in New York from 3 to 4 times, and through letters and phone-calls, I kept in constant touch with them. My father loved to clip those Maltese newspapers cuttings for me and sent thousands of them over the years. Even in the past 3 years, when I could read all newspapers through the Internet, he still sent me his version of news headlines through the cuttings, which I appreciated so much. He did everything with utmost love, slowly, patiently, properly and meticulously. When in 1982, they came to my Parish and stayed with the Dominican Nuns  in their Convent, he noticed a statue of the Blessed Mother in their yard, which he painted with patience and a loving touch. They appreciated it so much and showed it to every parishioner. Granted he was no Michelangelo, but when I visited the nuns a few months ago, they were showing me their Statue, and I asked them "Didn't you paint it ever since my father painted it for you?" And they answered in a chorus, "Of course not, that was the work of an artist!" As you may be noticing, in many of my reflections, I mentioned my mother and father together, because they were simply and utterly inseparable. Many people remember them for the heart of gold they have, and all of us who were so much closer to them, can witness that it was truly a heart of gold, embedded with diamonds and jewels of inestimable price. They would never eat anything before they saw all our plates full (unless it was kous-kous during Lent.)  And we only heard the word NO as a warning, as a timely correction and an appropriate and deserved scolding. And because of this we are who we are. My father was a man who was happy and content with just about everything, and was simply happy with the simple things in life. He was not a demanding person and never restricted us or placed any impossible rules or unfair regulations around the house. He will do anything to make everyone happy, and he was "jack-of-all-trades," heart and soul. There wasn't anything he couldn't fix, or try to fix. Even on the day he died, he spent the whole day taking down the Christmas decorations, and packing everything with methodical preciseness, not knowing that he would never unpack them again. He never rushed through anything. Someone once said: "A great person is one who can bend down on his knees and plays with a child." And this my father did practically every day, with us when we were younger, and now with Julian and Peter. He was a true gentleman and a friend to everybody. There was nothing he would not do to help those who asked him for a favor. Once he told me a funny story when he was helping my brother Paul at his Bar next door, when a British tourist came in asked for a screwdriver. My father went inside our house searching frantically for a screwdriver, only to find out that the customer had actually requested a Cocktail. Imagine if he had asked for a rusty nail ! During the last week we spent together, I noticed him being a little tired, but he had convinced me and my mother and brothers and sisters that it was only the cold weather that was effecting him. But it was the cumulative tiredness of 77 years of hard work, patiently and humbly helping others that eventually caused him to leave us to Heaven, literally in a few seconds. Nobody could have predicted this sad outcome, and I hope no one here ever feels any guilt for not doing enough for him. My father had finished his work here on earth, his mission was accomplished, and who knows, maybe the Good Lord was searching for "jack-of-all-trades" for Heaven for the new year, and decided that my dad was the best man for the job. Our loss is Heaven's gain. We all hope that when we're called to eternal life, we'll all be prepared as my father was, and the Lord can say to us as He told my dad: "Enter into the Eternal Kingdom, because you have been a faithful and deserving servant." It was an honor for me giving him and my mother Communion the morning of the day he died. Even though we will not see him face to face anymore, he will be watching over us, and he'll continue to teach us and inspire us with the values that were so prominent in his life. We may not see him visually, but we'll always experience his presence in our hearts, in our souls and in our minds, in every move we make and through ever step we take. Now a final word to my mother . . . . we listened to your advice for the past 50 years - now it's your turn to listen to us. We're not telling you not to cry, because that's a feeling we too need to express at times, but we beg you to be courageous and strong. Pray for him, but also pray to him. Only you know the living Saint you've lost. I am certain that he will be watching over you continuously, and on us too, from Heaven above, where, as little Peter suggested he is now personified in one of the stars, shining brightly over us. And he's already bearing positive fruits of his labors. The day after he died, little Julian received an exceptional result form St Aloysius College. No doubt Nannu John rejoiced at his accomplishment, as he did on seeing Peter weeding the front garden of their home, exactly as his dear Nannu John used to do. The best gift God can give to a family is to have one of the children become a priest. The best gift God gave me is the presence of two precious parents and a wonderful family in which I was raised. God grant him the eternal rest he so richly deserves, and may the perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace. AMEN

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Whenever I have to use a Password, combination lock or any other secret number, I always use 337, my dad's number as a Policeman.  I know that this had more meaning to him than a simple number.  3 - symbolic of Faith Hope and Love, three virtues he practised constantly in his life. 3 - The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, the three persons of the Trinity; and 7 -  the Sacraments, which he received faithfully and regularly. So 337 had a deeper meaning to him and a special meaning to me  and you also know now my combination and password ! Of course I have a few letters thrown along with them.

This was the day of my ordination to the Priesthood, June 19th 1977, an unforgettable day for me and my parents, brothers and sisters. The ordination took place at St John's Cathedral in Valletta. My First Solemn Mass took place on August 14th, at St Julian's Parish Church.

My parents are here seen next to the image of the Baby Jesus in the typical setting they created together many years ago. My mother did the canopy and my father sets Jesus with the Angels, lights and 'gulbiena' (vetch) all around. This has been a family decoration for close to 40 years, and the day my father died, he packed Baby Jesus and the Angels in their boxes, and then together folded the canopy for the last time. This letter which he wrote to me in 1998 shows how eager he was to decorate the house for Christmas. . .

My father in 1988

A little bit of a formal picture with my parents on the occasion of the party following the Police Pensioners Mass held every year at the Police Headquarters. The last one we attended together was held the Sunday before he died.

My parents are seen here with Bishop John McGann in 1982, at the Cathedral of St Agnes, in Rockville Centre, NY

Here my parents are again with myself and Bishop John McGann when he visited Malta in November 1990, when I was honored to be his tour guide as he visited the seminarians, the parents of Maltese and Gozitan priests, as well as other dignitaries.  He enjoyed that evening at our house, and was very reluctant to leave, especially as he was'nt driving.

My parents here guarding the famous Big Ben in London, in one of our stop-overs in England on our way to New York.

Again my parents here relaxing at home, in preparation for Marcel and Maria's Wedding in May 1998, which was actually held in Victoria, Gozo.

Baby Julian's First Christmas in 1990, in the proud hands of Nannu John and Nanna Mary.

Here is Peter ready for an outing with Nannu John, both smiling and happy being in each other's company, planning another adventure together.

And this is Julian's special letter to Nannu John, which he wrote to him on the day of the Funeral, January 4th 2002.

And this is now Peter's letter to nannu John, also written on the day of his Funeral, January 4th, 2002

My parents' Wedding Photo, taken on July 24th, 1948. The Nuptial Mass was celebrated by my mother's uncle, Father Paul Galea.

There were 4 other priests saying the Mass on the side altars of the Old Lapsi, St Julian's Church. The reception was held afterwards at their home in 16 St Angelo's Street.

My Parents' 50th Anniversary celebration On July 24th 1998, we all joined happily for our parents' 50 th Wedding Anniversary, starting with a special Mass, held at the Old Lapsi St Julian's Church. the same Church where they were married, and where all of us children were baptized over the years. A family Reception was held afterwards at the Barracuda Restaurant in St Julian's.

These are some historic pictures from that occasion, including a Papal Blessing we all gave them commemorating such a happy day for them and all of us. AD MULTOS ANNOS !

My parents are seen here back in 1989 with Rosemarie and her  husband Carmelo Garzia, soon after their marriage. They are seen by the Delimara Power Station, when it was still being built.

And here we see them with Marcel and Maria and a younger Julian, as well as my sister Josephine. Peter was still on the way when I took this picture at the Mdina Square.

O Lord, we thank you for blessing their marriage through all these years, for 5 healthy children and 2 grandchildren, for respectful relatives and many friends who admire them for so many good and superior qualities they have shown over the years.

During their last visit to New York, in October of 2000, my father, as well as my mother and sister took part in an anointing Mass we held in our parish Church of St Stanislaus Kostka.

Here are my parents with Josephine on a beautiful Autumn day in Upstate New York, during their last visit to my present parish in Pleasant Valley in September-October 2000.

My Father as a policeman in 1949

A family photo in January 2000, after having a few Pizzas together at Il-Veduta at Rabat.

Around the family table after Dinner on New Year's Day 2001

And here is a group family photo on that same day, January 1st 2001.

My parents with Julian and Peter (and Scooby-Doo) on New Year's Eve 2000. Here they are at Marcel and Maria's home in Birkirkara, waiting for the stroke of midnight and the welcome of the New Year 2001.

My parents, Marcel and the boys meeting with Fr Benedict Groeschel C.F.R. during his visit to Malta in June 2001. Fr Benedict is a well-know speaker and prolific writer, and a personal friend of Fr Julian.

A very proud moment for my father in 1991 as he is presented with a special medal by  Dr Censu Tabone, at that time President of Malta. The medal was in recognition for his work as a policeman and his role in defendig the Maltese Islands during World War II as a member of the Police Force.

Snatched away so unexpectedly, Taken quickly from our midst so fast. Not a minute more to say our goodbyes, Precious memories now are in the past. Your legacy still will live forever, Happy years we all have lived with you. Surely we'll appreciate your guidance, And remember you in all the things we do. Blended with your wisdom and your wit, Genuine love for us we'll always cherish. Patience and hard work we've all admired Blessed by your example, we'll not perish. Sacrificing through your early childhood, Frighteneing stories of the World War Two. Finding then a jewel in our mother, Reaping love and faith and prayer too.

Toiling many years as a policeman, Proudly risking life and limb so bravely. Lending many a helping hand sincerely, Hoping that our lives we'll live more safely. Always looking up to you, dear Daddy, All the care and kindness we remember. Painting, cooking, fixing and creating, Going non-stop January till December. Rosaries, Masses, Prayers and Novenas, Teaching us and loving our mother. Bending backwards helping all your children, In our hearts, like you ther'll be no other. I wrote this improvised poem on the plane during my return trip to New York , January 23 2002

My, father, my hero

A very special picture taken after the 50th Anniversary Mass at St Julian's Lapsi Church.

One of the best pictures of my father, taken just after Julian's Confirmation ceremony at Santa Maria Church in Birkirkara.

Memories and Recollections..... My brother Marcel recounted this story to me on February 4th: "This morning, on my way to St Michael School, Peter out of the blues said that he wished he was still a baby! Finding it a rather unusual comment for someone like Peter to make, I asked him why? His very straight answer was that if he were still a baby he would have seven years to look forward to enjoying Nannu, playing with him and seeing him around. He said that now he cannot see him any more and he's missing him a lot." Comments from Marcel , while talking through E-Mail. . . . This was quite a bad start to the year. But I'm doing my best to think positive. Frankly, not a second passes that I do not have Papa at the back of my mind. I'm sure that this will continue for months. People keep phoning or sending letters telling me that they've just learnt that Papa passed away. So the conversation starts again. I try to keep positive, at least for the sake of my family, the boys, even Mama. There are moments when I just feel incredulous, like wanting to burst out. Usually they come when - absent-mindedly - I think of phoning home to talk to Papa or remember or read something which he used to like or enjoy - then suddenly, I realize he's no longer there. Life has to go on. On Sunday afternoon we took the boys to the cemetery, Peter just sat on the tomb, touching it with his hand, he called Nannu a couple of times. Then we said prayers. Of course the boys have only happy memories of Nannu. They were not only his pride and joy but, especially the last year, they made him particularly happy - both coming first in class, Julian placing 37th in the Common Entrance Exam out of 3,000, etc. Certainly no regrets. They were always loving to him, never visited their house and leaving without kisses and hugs to Nanna and Nannu  which are always so warm and loving.

Eternal rest grant unto him, o Lord . . . . . . .

And let the perpetual light shine upon him. And may the souls of all the faithful departed, in the mercy of God, rest on peace. AMEN

To go back to my other two Web-Sites, please click on these links. Thanks for praying along with us, as you remember my father John in your prayers. Thank you sincerely for visiting this Memorial Web-Site.