I just watched an old short video of the late Pope Francis. Obviously shot during the pandemic, his solitary figure is seen walking down an empty St. Peter’s plaza, where he finally heads up toward an open-air altar to hear mass. Considering that, if this had been during an ordinary time when the square would’ve been completely filled with thousands of faithful, the significance of the fleeting moment might as well have been more than enough to portray a perfect image for profound sadness. Now, it is only his passing this year on Easter Monday that could beat it.
Rest assured that many years from now, while that haunting vision might still have deeper meaning in many who saw it, quite surely, we’d be filing all under the mind’s category of “I remember that day”. Pathetic and cruel as that may appear to be, quite simply, that’s just how our mind works. It protects us by gradually numbing any pain, until all that is left is the memory of it and perhaps, a dull ache in the end.
As sure as unlike other realities in life, it will take a lot for us to accept the truth that the people whom we love will not always be around. These are hard lessons and no one can claim they are things one just gets used to. However, it is especially more difficult when one is much older. That morbid idea of losing someone you love may still be light years away from being pondered by the young. In a way that is good, as they still have a lot on their plates and as people like to say, the world is still their oyster. That point however, wherein any death of someone we know makes one aware of our own mortality, is apparently reserved solely for those dated for pasture duty.
A few years before he died, my father complained to me about a school reunion he excitedly attended, only to discover he was the only surviving member of his class. When he said that, I wasn’t fooled by his bravado, acting as though he had won a popularity contest for last man standing. His eyes had betrayed him, as his thoughts might have hinted, his train’s final station might be near.
But back to more pondering on the pope’s lone profile in the empty square. That might as well have also meant, like him, we’re alone in our journey. Despite all the pleasant memories he may have shared with the world, sadly, he was alone in death. It’s the same fate for the rest of us.
