Francesco's perfume

It has been about thirteen years that I wanted to write about Pope Francis – and even though it feels commonplace to do so now – it has become impossible for me not to. Just a few days before his death, I was dangerously preparing to reflect on Trump’s and Musk’s America. But today, two days later, their faces have completely disappeared from my horizon. As if they no longer mattered at all.

While walking through the fruit and vegetable market a few days ago, I heard a child say to his mother: “But couldn’t Trump have died instead?” At first, it made me smile, but then it sparked a question in me: When I die, will I too be one of those who are interchangeable? Or worse, will there be a child who, while shopping with his mother, will wish I had died instead of Aunt Pina? Will I be among those who leave a void? Or among those who leave a crack? Pope Francis certainly leaves a void in my life. But those who have loved us also leave us the tools to fill that emptiness. It will quickly fill when we listen to his words again and look back at his gestures. I am hopeful that many will wish to carry on his work. And will begin to mend where men so often divide. Once Francis said: “We must be normal.” He did that, and he brought himself into one of the most difficult roles in the world. Much has been written and much will be written, sometimes unpleasant things... but as my grandfather used to say: “Words have no smell, and what remains of a person is the fragrance.” I feel it, and for this I thank you! Happy Easter, Pope Francis!

NP May 2025
Andrea Gotico