Growing up in a devotedly religious family where all important feast days were celebrated and church happenings discussed, the life and death of a pope was of major significance to us.
When Pope Paul VI came to the Philippines, I was a small kid back then but I still remember our elders who were always so busy and always out of the house from the time the pope arrived until he left. There were no other topics of discussion outside of the pope’s visit, even televisions and radios were tuned in to the pope’s activities. The whole time he was here, I tried to be a good girl.
But then he died when I was already in high school. The first John Paul succeeded him but then he died very soon after. Talk again reverted back to the pope, and who will succeed him. We really hoped for a white smoke to come out of the tower because this will signify that a new pope has been elected.
At last, there was the white smoke. Everybody in the family flocked in front of the television jubilant and excited. Excitement was coupled with curiosity when it was found out that for the first time in the papal history, the new pope was Polish. I wanted to see his face and when I first saw it, that was the first time I began to love him. When I saw him smile, it was such a beautiful smile that even though I was still young by then, goosebumps formed on my arms. His face, aura and demeanor radiated goodness
When he visited the Philippines for the first time in 1981, all of us were so excited. My family opened our door to any Catholic group in need of any assistance to help make His Holiness stay in the Philippines safe and memorable. I followed him on television, radio, and periodicals all throughout his stay here in the Philippines. When I learned he loved the Guimaras mangoes, how I wished I could send him some.
Sometime after this, a Turk tried to take away his life. I was so devastated and so mad at the Turk that I wanted something bad to happen to him. But then, again, Pope John Paul II remained true to his fatherly calling, showing me the way. When he recovered, he asked the people to pray for Mehmet Ali Agca, the Turk. He even called him brother. He said he has already forgiven Agca. I was so astounded that he has the capacity to immediately forgive a person who tried to assassinate him. He really personifies Jesus.
It gave me a good feeling when I learned that Pope John Paul II visited Agca in his jail, when Agca asked him how come he was still alive. It seemed to me that a miracle indeed happened, a miracle on the pope’s recovery and a miracle on the heart of Agca. His assassin even sent him a get well letter when he learned that the pope was ill. And I cannot forget the picture of Agca crying when he learned that the pope already died.
For me, it is the greatest love story of the modern times. How I wish I can claim just an iota of John Paul’s goodness.
On his second visit to Manila, I was the only one in our house who was religiously updated on the itineraries of the Pope. How I wish I could have been with him physically when he called the gathering at the Luneta grandstand “phenomenal” . I wanted to be counted among them.
When he was leaving and before he entered the plane, I was crying tears of joy and sorrow. Joy because he cannot leave us. He was always turning around to wave to us. He even came out again just to bless the people and the land again and again. You can feel that he does not want to leave the Philippines.
Tears of sorrow because I know, deep in my heart, he will never set foot on Philippine land again. He was getting on in years, and he was getting sickly. I know that once he enters the plane, it will be the last time we will see his cheerful face again in the Philippines.
And when he died, it felt like somebody very close to me left me all alone.
Pray for us, Blessed John Paul II. We need you.
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