So… the world woke up this morning to something it didn’t want to believe: Pope Francis—yes, that Pope Francis, the Jesuit from Buenos Aires who spent over a decade shaking the dust off a very creaky Vatican—has died at 88.
Now, look, the guy’s had health issues for a while. He wasn’t moonwalking across St. Peter’s anytime soon. But still—this was sudden. One minute, he’s making surprise Easter appearances, blessing crowds and meeting with the Vice President of the United States, and the next—he’s gone. A cerebral stroke, followed by irreversible cardiocirculatory collapse. That’s the Vatican’s official phrasing. Translation: his body, after years of carrying the weight of the Catholic Church and, frankly, most of humanity’s guilt, just… gave out.
But let’s rewind.
A Pope Who Made the Church Feel…Human
Pope Francis wasn’t your typical papal model. He didn’t ride the Popemobile like it was a chariot of gold. No, this guy rolled in a Ford Focus and lived in a guesthouse instead of the ornate papal apartments because he didn’t want to get too comfortable. He took selfies. He kissed babies that weren’t even pre-scheduled. He talked about climate change, LGBTQ rights, capitalism run amok, and—this might be the craziest part—he meant it.
He wasn’t perfect. But for an institution known for its glacial pace and affinity for Latin, he was the equivalent of a Red Bull with a Bible.
Health: The Long Road to Today
Let’s be real, the man was a medical mystery wrapped in a cassock. Part of one lung? Gone since 1957. Diabetes. High blood pressure. Bronchiectasis, which is a fancy way of saying “your lungs throw tiny tantrums every time you breathe.” And pneumonia? Oh yeah—earlier this year, he spent 38 days in the hospital with double pneumonia. Most people don’t walk out of that. But Francis did… because of course he did. Because death had to schedule itself around him.
And yet, despite all that, just yesterday—yesterday!—he showed up at Easter Mass and gave his blessing. That’s like walking out of hospice to host the Oscars.
What Happens Now?
Cue the smoke machines and cardinal cosplay, because we’ve entered sede vacante—that Latin phrase that sounds like a Harry Potter spell but just means “The Pope’s not home.”
Now, Cardinal Kevin Farrell becomes the Vatican’s temporary CEO, and the rest of the cardinals—135 of them, all under 80—will soon gather for the world’s most sacred team-building exercise: the conclave. They’ll lock themselves in the Sistine Chapel, pray, argue, and wait for a puff of white smoke that says, “We found the guy.”
Possible successors? Well, there’s Cardinal Parolin, the diplomatic heavy-hitter. Cardinal Tagle, the beloved pastor from the Philippines. And Cardinal Zuppi, a peacemaker with jazz hands. Seriously, he plays piano. Could we finally get a musical Pope? Maybe.
The funeral? Unlike the grand ceremonies of popes past, Francis asked for simplicity. A plain wooden coffin. No platform display. Buried at Saint Mary Major Basilica. Leave the gold at home—just bring your prayers and maybe a coat, it gets drafty in there.
The Legacy We Inherited
Pope Francis wasn’t just a religious leader. He was a global moral compass with an Argentinian accent and a permanent squint that said, “I’m not mad, I’m just deeply disappointed in capitalism.”
He taught the world—and his Church—that faith isn’t about opulence, it’s about service. That compassion beats condemnation. That loving your neighbor doesn’t come with an asterisk.
He made room in the pews for people long told to stand outside. He made the Vatican feel less like a fortress and more like a home. And now that he’s gone, the real question is: does the Church keep walking the path he lit—or do they quietly bolt the door and pretend none of this ever happened?
We’ll find out soon enough.
Until then, rest in peace, Pope Francis. You gave us more than we deserved and left us better than you found us. And honestly, if there’s a heaven with a gate, you’ve probably already talked them into lowering the velvet rope.
