It has been a bittersweet Easter upon learning of the death of Pope Francis. I had the opportunity to meet him in June of 2017 in Rome. Aine was three at the time and Annie’s work had us in the general audience for a meeting with Francis. We were brought up to meet him personally, being directed by his guards to get into a receiving line. It all seems so surreal for me, even today. At the time, I was grieving the loss of both of my parents and so, I felt like they would have been thrilled to see us there with him. And spiritually, I believe they were able to see one of their kids meeting the leader of their lifelong faith.
I gave Francis the Switchback Hibernian Mass CD, which I thought would be wonderful for him to have. I also was sort of thinking that the odds were more than likely I wouldn’t have that audience with the Pope. I was glad I was wrong. More importantly, Aine gave him a kiss on the cheek that everyone in the audience applauded.
I remember his smile and kindness. In a matter of minutes, my brush with the leader of around 1.2 billion people was over. I wrote a story about it which you can read by clicking here. 
Aine plants one on the Pope.
I often thought of Pope Francis over the years after our lives crossed paths. I often wonder if he listened to that CD.
Having lived through five popes now, I think that Pope Francis really represented what I believe Christ to be. Forgiving, compassionate, not just rattling off, but living the beatitudes by example.
Francis continued to be a champion of the least powerful. He was not only able to apologize for wrongs of the church, he worked on making things right. Not only in the area of sexual abuse by clergy, but the corruption within the Vatican bank. He was fearless in that manner. And his very compassion was attacked by more conservative Catholics who seemed to have forgotten that their Savior made it a point to rub elbows with sinners. Francis was merely taking his cue from his master.
Annie reminded me that Francis was a great cook and being Argentinian, knew how to tango. In short, he wasn’t some sort of pale icon, stuck behind the Vatican walls. I loved that he snuck out in his priest garb and would sometimes even shop for music in Rome. He was fiercely human, determined to be the common man among common people. Not even living in the luxurious apartments of the Papacy but choosing a small guest room for his quarters.
His life was also tough, having had part of his lung removed decades before, it was inevitable that pneumonia, “the old man’s friend”, would ultimately weaken him to the point of hastening his death. But not before he greeted the people for Easter one last time. In the musician's speech, “he died with his boots on,” meaning that he went out of this world still being the caring, active and most human of all Popes I have known. It is the greatest way to go out, I feel. I will miss him and will always treasure meeting him. Rest in peace, Pope Francis. And thank you.
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