Kim Mandelkow, the former worship director for the Archdiocese of Milwaukee who is now pursuing studies in Rome, stands with classmates following the Chrism Mass there during Holy Week. (Submitted photos)
As an American living in Rome, there are days when I pause and think, “Is this real? Do I really live here?” Sometimes when I’m out for a walk, I’ll turn a corner and suddenly be face-to-face with the Pantheon or hear the echo of church bells from St. Peter’s Basilica. On Easter Sunday, the bells of St. Peter’s rang in jubilation; on Monday, mourning, with each strike echoing a sense of finality. And then the notification on my phone: “Pope Francis dies at 88.”
It seemed unreal at first. I had just seen him on Palm Sunday when I attended Mass in St. Peter’s Square. He came out to greet the assembly, wishing us a blessed Holy Week. Then again, a week later, after Mass on Easter Sunday, Pope Francis passed through the crowd in his iconic Popemobile, greeting the faithful for what we now know would be the last time.
Shock was the first emotion many of us felt here in Rome. During Pope Francis’ lengthy hospital stay, the “Compana della Morte” (Italian for the “Bell of Death”) would have been expected, but on Easter Monday, after the world saw him in the square just the day before, it was a shock.
It wasn’t long before reality set in. At a coffee bar later that morning, two women were chattering on about how life is a mystery, saying that we never truly know when we ourselves will be called to return to the house of the Father.
The following day, as I met a group of friends for lunch, the waiter reminded us that at the end of nearly every Sunday Angelus, Pope Francis would wish everyone a “Buon Pranzo” (the Italian equivalent of “Enjoy your meal”). He told us that simple greeting reminded him of how the Pope was very much a father figure, not just for the Catholic Church but for the world.
On the day of his funeral, I could not believe what I saw when I tried to simply get close to St. Peter’s. Nearly a half-million people lined up along the streets of Rome, waiting to get into St. Peter’s Square; some had even slept in the street all night. Others, like me, simply stood along the streets which would later be used to transport his casket to his tomb at St. Mary Major as we watched the nearly three-hour funeral Mass from our phones and tablets. People wanted to be together to say their final goodbye to a simple and humble man who truly brought the world together with his kind smile and message of hope.
Kim Mandelkow, Director of Worship for the Archdiocese of Milwaukee from September 2018 until September 2023, is currently studying for a postgraduate degree in Dogmatic-Sacramental Theology at the Pontifical Ateneo of Sant’Anselmo.
