...with a rather dumb expression on my face...
And John Paul II was still
alive! I felt so incredibly lucky to be
able to be there, hours before his death, and pray for him.
Not that my prayers are all that valid, mind you, but I was just happy
to be there. And it was even cooler to see all the other people that
were there, presumably with much more God-pleasing prayers.
And we were all staring up at the windows of the papal apartments.
Wondering how he was.
Everywhere you looked,
people were praying for the Holy Father. There
were the American seminarians, singing...
And there were Italian kids
- they called themselves "Papa Boys": Papa being the Italian word for
Pope; and "Boys", well, obviously being an English word (I have no idea
why they used an English word). And they were basically just a bunch of
Italians who loved the Pope, and literally lived out in that piazza
while the Pope was sick. And even after he died. And they did it simply
because they wanted
him to know he was never alone. And so, every once in awhile, they'd
chant his name in Italian: "Giovanni Paolo!" "Giovanni
Paolo!"
I'm not a very emotional
guy, but there were very few eyes that did not
have tears in them. Including mine. And what really got me was that I
could imagine the Pope slipping in and out of consciousness
- but he could hear the thousands of people out in the piazza praying
for him...and cheering for him...
The sun set on the Vatican
on April 2nd. The last sunset of JPII's life.
And the front page of L'Osservatore Romano, the official Vatican
newspaper, reported the news we never wanted to hear:
Today, Saturday April 2, at 9:37,
the Lord called to Himself
The Holy Father
John Paul II
