Hours went by and my cell phone started ringing with notifications, text messages, calls, comments on social networks. Many friends were in shock. They all felt the need to express themselves on this event that will undoubtedly transform the course of Church history… because soon we’ll have a new pope. Many wished me their condolences and asked if I was going to Rome to take part in the funeral. As if I were a close friend… But don’t worry! I’ll do what many believers and non-believers will do: I’ll follow the coverage on TV or by logging on to the Internet.
From the very first hours of the announcement of Pope Francis’ death, each of us undoubtedly took the time to recall the defining moments of this beloved pope’s pontificate. His writings, his gestures, his words have helped us to advance on the path of encounter with Jesus, to grow in holiness. And this is the greatest legacy he leaves to our Church.
I remember, at the beginning of his pontificate, we were treated to daily meditations that helped us discover the freshness of the Gospel. Then came the great texts of the encyclicals and apostolic exhortations, which surprised us with their depth and spiritual richness. Everyone remembers The Joy of the Gospel; it’s a pastoral program and an ecclesial vision that were proposed to us, and which are still very relevant after 12 years of ministry.
These days, I’m delving into the pages of his autobiography Hope; another first for a pope to take up the exercise of writing his life. “An autobiography is not our private story, but rather the baggage we carry with us. And memory is not just what we recall, but what surrounds us. It speaks not only about what has been, but about what will be. All is born to blossom in an eternal springtime. In the end, we will say only: I don’t recall anything in which You are not there.”
I remember gestures that spoke louder than any words to remind us that the Gospel is demanding! His first trip took Pope Francis to the island of Lampedusa in Italy, the port of arrival in Europe for so many of our migrant brothers and sisters from Africa. Even today, the Prefect of the Dicastery for the Service of Integral Human Development reminds us of that first trip; Cardinal Michael Czerny, a Canadian prelate, wears a pectoral cross made from the wood of refugee shipwrecks that have washed up on the island’s beaches. Pope Francis’ commitment to migrants has been a constant in his life. A few years later, Pope Francis welcomed 12 Syrian refugees to the Vatican, who returned with him on the papal plane following his pastoral visit to Greece.
When Pope Francis was with prisoners and sick people, he showed a special compassion. Who wasn’t moved to see the spiritual leader of the Church stop in St. Peter’s Square and embrace Vinicio Riva, the man disfigured by tumors that covered his entire body. Just like the other Francis who kissed the leper…
I remember Pope Francis’ prophetic commitment to ecology and the environment. He didn’t just talk about the threat of extinction of whales and salamanders. He wasn’t only concerned about global warming and its consequences in the form of violent meteorological phenomena. His concern for the “common home” was not only focused on the safeguarding of creation; it was first and foremost directed towards the most vulnerable populations, the poor and the lowly, who are always the first victims of our inaction and unconsciousness.
I remember the Pope speaking out in defense of the dignity of every person. How often did he repeat that in the Church there is room for everyone, everyone, everyone! On the return trip from WYD in Brazil, a journalist asked him about the “gay lobby” within the Church; how many LGBTQ+ people received a breath of hope when they heard these words: “If someone is gay, seeks the Lord and is of good will, who am I to judge him?” Pope Francis has sought to build bridges with divorced remarried people, with victims of sexual abuse, with women, with young people so that each and every one can take his or her place within our society and our Church.
On a more personal note, I recall the unforgettable experience of his visit to Canada in July 2022. During this penitential pilgrimage, Pope Francis came to meet Canada’s aboriginal peoples to open up paths of dialogue and reconciliation, inviting us to “walk together”. I had the great honor of being his voice during these 5 days in Edmonton, Quebec and Iqaluit. What a grace it was to be constantly at his side: in the car, at the table, at the various meetings and celebrations. I saw him praying, crying, smiling, being close, listening at length to people who had lived through the tragedy of the residential schools.
How many memories flood my mind when I think back on those days. Like you, I was moved to see him praying in front of the cemetery at Maskwacis. Then he accompanied the long walk with the First Nations leaders to the meeting place. The next day, we found him at prayer, alone on the shores of Lake Ste Anne, gazing out at the horizon. This was the image of the Master on the shores of another lake in Galilee some 2000 years ago…
I remember the emotional meeting with survivors of the residential schools in Iqaluit. This event was supposed to last 45 minutes, but it went on for 90! The Pope leaned over to me and said: “Padre, I can’t give the speech I’ve prepared.” And I replied: “Holy Father, the speech is at the next event. But if you’d like to say something to them, I’ll translate.” And without notes, speaking from the heart, Pope Francis addressed them with words of forgiveness, consolation and comfort. Then he left his wheelchair to walk with his cane towards each witness, holding out his hand and embracing them. On our way out of the gym, the Pope and I entered a classroom with his orderly to take in what we had experienced in deep silence…
In Iqaluit, at the final ceremonial event, I bid farewell to the Holy Father. And again, we drove to the ITA Airways plane for the flight to Rome. On arrival, the Pope disembarked for the group photo with the whole entourage accompanying him: gendarmes, Swiss guards, photographers, doctor, orderly, members of the Secretariat of State, and so on. And as I left to walk to the other plane that would take me back to Montreal, the chief of protocol called out to me: “The Pope is going to want to greet you before he leaves.” So I approached the platform that would take Pope Francis up to the plane and again thanked him for his trust. In turn, he thanked me for my services, saying simply: “Pray for me.” And off he went…
On Easter Tuesday, our brother and friend Cardinal Gérald C. Lacroix celebrated mass at Notre Dame Cathedral in Quebec City before leaving for Rome to attend the funeral of his friend Pope Francis. He ended his homily with a wonderful text by Dani Alvarez, a woman from the Philippines. I simply share it with you:
It’s Almost As If He Waited.
Pope Francis passed away on Easter Monday. The timing felt too tender to be coincidence—like he held on just long enough to hear the Alleluia one last time. To witness the Church rejoice in the Resurrection before quietly letting go. As if he needed to see the stone rolled away before stepping into the promise he had spent his life proclaiming.
He carried so much. The wounds of a divided Church. The ache of the poor and the forgotten. The weight of hope—for a world more merciful, more human, more like Christ. He walked with a limp, both in body and in spirit, but never without grace. He wasn’t perfect. But he was present. And he kept showing up.
And he was different.
He chose the simple path when grandeur was expected. He rode the bus. Paid his own hotel bill. Lived in a guesthouse instead of the papal palace. His first act as Pope was to bow and ask for our prayers. From the beginning, he showed us that true authority kneels. That greatness can look like humility.
He disrupted systems and comforted outcasts. He spoke boldly on justice, embraced the disabled, welcomed migrants, washed the feet of prisoners. He didn’t just talk about mercy—he embodied it. He made the Church feel like a place where the last could be first, and the forgotten, finally seen.
He taught us that holiness isn’t perfection—it’s presence. That the Gospel is clearest when it sounds like compassion. That faith, at its best, looks like love with skin on.
And now, just after Easter, he’s gone. But maybe that was his final homily. Not delivered from a pulpit, but through the quiet timing of his death—a soft Amen to a life spent preaching hope.
It brings to mind these words: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).
And he did. He fought – not with anger, but with mercy. He ran – not to be praised, but to make space for others. And he kept the faith – not flawlessly, but fiercely.
So yes, we grieve. But we also remember. We remember how he made us believe again – in a Church that walks with the wounded, in a Gospel wide enough for the doubting, in a God whose love meets us right where we are.
He reminded me that faith isn’t something we hold onto for ourselves. It’s something we hand off – with open hands and open hearts.
Pope Francis has finished his race. And what he leaves behind isn’t just a memory –it’s the echo of a life poured out. The kind of life that makes you want to live differently. More gently. More boldly. More like him. More like Christ.
He waited for Easter – because he believed in the promise. And now, that promise is his. Light has found him. And Love has brought him home.
In closing, I simply invite you to give thanks for the life of Pope Francis. Let us take the time to remember the great events and the small everyday moments when his presence as a shepherd inspired our Christian life. May he hear the words of the Gospel: “Come, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of your Master” (cf. Matthew 25:23).
