It is Maltese tradition that each lineage carries a nickname. On my paternal grandmother’s side, it is Zifirin, meaning “Matchstick.”A reflection of her name, my Nanna Victoria had a fiery tongue and fierce sense of humour. I would ask her if she’d like anything from the town centre, and immobilized by a recent stroke as much as by her caretaking family members, she would reply, “A package of cigarettes,” with a smirk on her face.
This morning, on the very date of her ninety-fourth birthday, she passed away. I am heartbroken. In my naivety I said goodbye last week with the expectation that she would still be by the kitchen table, listening to mass on the radio on my next visit to Gozo.
Nanna Victoria was named for the national feast of Our Lady of Victory, also the patron of her hometown, celebrated each year on September 8th. This year, her feast day will pass while she awaits burial. The church, decorated for festival services is not available until Monday.
Fireworks will light the sky over Xaghra.
Candles will light her bedside tonight.
I bought a matchbox and lit one Zifirin for my Nanna.
