Goodbye, Pope Francis: Death as a New Beginning

On trying to find a way out of my sadness after the death of Pope Francis...

I didn’t know him personally. I never had the chance to meet him at a Wednesday audience in Rome. The closest I ever came to Pope Francis was in September 2015, when the Holy Father traveled to the United States. Thanks to my beautiful friend Diana, who gifted us tickets for the Papal Mass and the Francis Festival in Philadelphia, my dear traveling companion, Pat Gohn, and I had coveted seats with a fantastic view.

Pope Francis at the Papal Mass for the World Meeting of Families, September 2015.

Also that week, I was in the audience at the United States Capitol when Pope Francis addressed our nation’s leaders. I would have had a better view if I had listened to his speech on television. But being in his presence that day felt electric.

Learning from Pope Francis in Washington DC, September 2015

For some reason, I was awake in L.A. late Sunday night (early morning Rome time) only moments after the official announcement was made that Pope Francis had died at 7:35 am on Easter Monday morning. As I often do during the night, I glanced at my phone and saw the news. I immediately took myself to our living room and turned on my computer. None of the news networks were covering the passing yet. But my go-to Rome news source, Mountain Butorac, was already livestreaming on Instagram from St. Peter’s Square. Mountain remarked that it seemed most people did not yet know that the Holy Father had died. I watched, trying to process my shock that the pontiff who had just met with our Vice President, given us his Urbi et Orbi Easter Message, and taken a lap in the Pope Mobile only hours before was now gone.

I shouldn’t have felt surprised. By all accounts, Pope Francis had been near death only weeks before during his extended hospitalization. But something about his return to visibility fooled me into thinking that things were better for his health. My frame of reference for death is my parents, both of whom lingered for days before saying their final goodbyes. This goodbye felt shocking. And—perhaps weirdly—it felt so personal. I know that many of the tears I shed early Monday morning (and those I’ve cried since then) are for my Mom and Daddy, too. Their loss still feels so tangible in moments like this.

The gratitude I wish I could share…

I've let myself watch selective coverage of Pope Francis’s passing over the last few days. But mostly, I have thought about the things I wish I could have said to him had I had the opportunity to spend a moment with him.

I would have thanked him for Laudato Si’, which, along with a photographic gift from my friend David, inspired my book I Am Earth’s Keeper. I always dreamed of handing the book to him personally. I hope he would be proud of it.

I would have thanked him for his 2013 encounter with Vinicio Riva. I have shared a version of this meeting in so many of my retreats since it happened. I imagined Monday that Vinicio was among those lined up waiting for a hug in heaven.

I would have thanked him for his many messages for World Communications Day, which annually edified and inspired my writing.

My list could go on and on. I imagine that some of you also have lists of your own, moments in your life where the path of this man, imperfect yet so inspiring, intersected with your own faith journey. I have been blown away by the number of non-Catholic and non-religious friends who have reached out in the past few days to share their own feelings of loss and grief. You didn’t have to be Catholic to have been touched by Pope Francis.

A new beginning

Today, thanks to Vatican News, I came across words that Pope Francis recently wrote that have given me some comfort as I grieve him, my parents, and other loved ones who have gone too soon. Pope Francis wrote of death, calling it, “a new beginning, as the title wisely highlights, because eternal life, which those who love already begin to experience on earth within the daily tasks of life — is beginning something that will never end. And it is precisely for this reason that it is a “new” beginning, because we will live something we have never fully lived before: eternity.”

On her Instagram feed, gifted musician and minister Sarah Hart shared “Well Done”, a lovely song she wrote for Pope Francis. Sarah sang,

“Well done, good and faithful servant
Here, your work is finished
Now you fly to peace
And we, the keepers of your kindness
Pray that heaven reminds us
Of how we must be”

As I pause again to say my goodbye to Pope Francis, I think about how hard it will be to speak this weekend at an upcoming retreat for women in Tampa, Florida. My PowerPoint slides, many of which quote this holy man, are already turned in. I am praying for the grace to hold back my tears and to be a “keeper of his kindness,” as Pope Francis would want me to be (thank you, Sarah, for that perfect image!)

Pope Francis’s death must be, for me too, a “new beginning” of this beautiful work God has gifted to me. The unknown of what lies ahead gives me trepidation. But regardless of what (and who) comes next, I'm working on seeing this moment in my life as the start of a fresh chapter.

Goodbye, Holy Father.
Thank you for it all…

A question for you: What do you wish you could say to Pope Francis?