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April 02, 2006
Where were you?
I was torn about putting this post up because it seemed so miserably self-referential, as if it actually matters where we were when the Pope died. But thinking about it a bit more, I decided it's actually not so lame. I think it will be interesting to read your accounts of where you were, what you were doing, how people around you reacted to John Paul's passing. We're all about faith and its impact here, and this is another corner of it to explore.
We were on our way to Arizona - and the thing I remember is this. There are times when I travel that there's some big sporting event going on - baseball playoffs, basketball tournaments, and so on - and as you walk through the airport, you see people just sort of standing around in the walkways, outside the airport bars and restaurants, watching the televisions to catch the score. That's what this was like, except what people were doing was stopping at the televisions to see what the Pope's condition was. That Thursday night before, I had been in New York, and the sign of the times was the television crews setting up for their vigils in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral.
The Sunday after he died, we went to Mass at San Xavier del Bac, described here, and the church had several pictures of John Paul around, he was mentioned in the prayers of course, but not in the homily, which I described here. It was rather striking to be down there in Arizona, in (in US terms) an ancient church, worshipping, not only with tourists, but with a substantial number of parishioners, whose ancestors were probably evangelized by Spanish missionaries and the redoubtable Father Kino, and here we were, in this gorgeous, vibrant church, in the Real Presence of Jesus, united in Him and united, through his sufferings with all the sufferings in the world, (the "wounds" in that Sunday's readings) so vividly lived by John Paul, and all hoping in the eternal life , as our ancient and sturdy faith assured us, would be his and ours as well.
In case you want to go back in time, here are a few threads that might interest you:
Actually, you might want to just go to the April archive and scroll down and through. Not for my thoughts, which are not fascinating, but for the various and numerous threads we ran - on covering the coverage, on our thoughts during the Pope's funeral, and then, scroll back up for the Whoo-Hoo! Ratzinger! Thread
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I was at work, checking Google news almost unwillingly every five minutes (probably more often than that). I work at my library's reference desk, and the librarian next to me was working on something. Finally one of the clicks was the one, and I lost my breath for a moment. I worked two more hours, pointing people to bathrooms and putting paper in printers, and I remember just feeling so alone and strange.
A friend was in his dorm room studying when he heard the bells at the Catholic center and knew immediately what had happened. Doesn't that sound nice and medieval?
Posted by: Jules at Apr 2, 2006 12:51:26 AM
Being at a small catholic college when it happened, word spread like wildfire around the campus.
Within about 15 minutes everyone had huddled around the various public TVs.
That night, my campus organized a large-screen projector and most of us watching the funeral, it finished around dawn.
I remember walking out into the early morning daylight after watching the Pope's casket retreat within St. Peters, saying a quick prayer, and going to find some breakfast before class.
Knowing that Pope John Paul was surely in heaven, time didn't really come to a halt when I heard - it's very easy to go about your daily affairs when your Catholic faith gives you perspective on these great events.
Santo Subito Giovanni Paolo!
Posted by: AmericanPapist at Apr 2, 2006 12:52:46 AM
btw, re: Jules... YES! The same thing happened at my campus. As I was running around to tell my classmates what had happened the sound of bells started coming from the 3 Catholic Churches in the area... it wasn't medieval, it was very Catholic.
Posted by: AmericanPapist at Apr 2, 2006 12:54:21 AM
I learned he died when I got to work that afternoon.
At the moment of his death, or very close to it, I was standing at the bus stop, waiting for the bus, and singing the opening aria of Bach's cantata Ich habe genug to myself. For those not familiar with the text, it translates as follows:
I have enough!
I have held the savior, the hope of the devout,
In my unworthy arms.
I have seen him;
In faith faith I have pressed Jesus close to my heart.
Now I wish, even today,
To depart from this world in joy.
Posted by: Nicholas at Apr 2, 2006 1:44:49 AM
For years I had been praying, "Not yet, Lord, please allow him a few more years." "Let him reach the Millenium" "Let him finish this year."
When he started getting sick last year, I stopped such prayers and resigned myself to "if it be your will, so be it." Being a self-employed lawyer, I had the luxury of shoving everything else aside and plopped myself in front of the TV, flipping stations whenever I got too annoyed at the person talking at that point. On Thursday night, despite what I just said above, I prayed "not tonight," but it was clear on Friday that the end had come.
Bishop Loverde (Arlington) had a special Mass on Friday evening, and I remember thinking that he could go while I was attending. After praying the rosary after Mass, I rushed to my car, turned on the radio, and was thankful not to get "the announcement." Back to the TV, stayed up late. Eventually went to bed praying "your will be done, but please not while we are all asleep."
Our great Holy Father was still hanging in there when I awoke, so it was back to the TV for the rest of the day. And then it came, "Our Holy Father John Paul has returned to the house of the Father." Never have I felt such bittersweet feelings. Such a heaviness of the heart, but not a sadness exactly. Joy that he was with the Father, but stinging tears at his passing.
"Thank you, your Holiness," or something like that, I'm sure I said. Rejoice today at being in the Father's house, I said, but your job is not done. Soon thereafter, I was praying to him, asking that he watch over and pray for me and various others. But I began to miss him, almost immediately. And even now, watching and remembering, the heart still aches for Karol Wojtyla, Ioannes Paulus Magnus.
Santo Subito!
Posted by: Bender at Apr 2, 2006 3:43:02 AM
When I got up on the 1st, learning he was declining, I was faced with a dilemma: we were hosting a big Sweet 16 party that night at the church hall! So, I spoke with my daughter and explained that I thought it would be disrespectful, and although disappointed, she agreed to postpone. I was pleased to note that all the guests understood and agreed.
It's silly, I suppose, but this small act made us feel closer to him. Other than that, we were all glued to the television, waiting and praying.
I realized that we really loved him.
Posted by: Regina F. at Apr 2, 2006 8:04:32 AM
We arrived in Rome on Saturday, were on the square that night as everyone said goodbye, and were given the gift of staying the next week through the funeral.
Full story here: www.txcnx.com/rome
Posted by: Floyd Ferguson at Apr 2, 2006 8:43:23 AM
I was strolling down Times Square when I saw a flash on an electronic ticker on one of the buildings announce the Pope's passing. I had come to New York for a weekend visit from Canada. At the airport in Canada the news on the TV related how ill the Holy Father was and during much of the trip I couldn't get him out of my mind. It was so clear he was dying but I think God was giving all of us time to get ready for his death. And yet when I did see the ticker tape, I remember feeling so sad. It will remain as one of the most memorable experiences of my life.
Posted by: tony at Apr 2, 2006 9:10:54 AM
Hey. Amy, I was on my way to Arizona, too, driving east on Interstate 10 toward Phoenix to attend a surprise party for my aunt's 80th birthday (really a suprise,since her birthday's in June--but the family thought it would be nicer to gather to celebrate in a cooler month!).
We were traveling through the greenest spring on the desert in maybe a century...yellow wildflowers lined the highway...listening to Fr. Stan Fortuna CDs on the way.
The vast, empty desert & the music
together evoked a very strong sense of peace.
After checking in to the motel and turning on CNN, we learned the Pope had passed away during our journey.
John Paul had visited Phoenix in 1987 and later in the day the local TV stations aired
various touching personal remembrances of that visit by area residents.
Next morning we attended the 7 a.m. Mass at St. Francis Xavier Church on Central Ave. I knew that the Pope had traveled along Central Ave. in the Popemobile when he visited Phoenix because my aunt, who's not Catholic, but who lives on the street, had snapped a photo of him passing by and sent me a copy at the time.
Being in a place where he had once been at the time we learned of his death and began the process of absorbing it and reflecting on it seemed to offer an added little measure of comfort.
Posted by: Kathryn at Apr 2, 2006 9:12:43 AM
Oh, I remember: I remember a couple of days before, waking up to the report on the radio that our late, beloved holy father had taken a bad turn. NPR played some of the music Vatican Radio was playing.
I remember watching the TV pretty closely on that Friday and Saturday. I prepared a homily for Saturday morning Mass, unsure whether he'd still be alive by the time I got that morning to deliver it. I was pretty emotional as I gave it--recalling, especially the final time he came to the window. He tried to speak to us, but he couldn't. But then, he didn't have to. Tu es Petrus!
Then, of course, back to watching the scene in Rome that Saturday. When the announcement came, I was struck by so much sorrow. I ran downstairs, to be sure anyone around knew. I told the volunteer manning the phones in the office; I ran over to church, where a wedding had just finished, and told the pastor and a visiting priest.
As soon as the wedding party had moved out of the church, we set the bells tolling. We'd made plans for mourning the holy father, and we set them in motion quickly. Our business manager and another lady helped get the black bunting up. A local TV station came by and interviewed them; they were crying on air.
I don't recall if I had the evening Mass or not, but I do recall my homily was a mess, because I'd written something about Divine Mercy, but I pretty much set that aside, and spoke extemporaneously. It felt so awful not mentioning his name in the Eucharistic Prayer; and when I slipped, a week or so later, and mentioned him, it still hurt. Even now, I want to say, John Paul our pope. That's no slight to our present holy father.
Posted by: Fr Martin Fox (Septimus) at Apr 2, 2006 9:38:17 AM
I was here at Notre Dame. Early Thursday evening, I heard that Last Rites had been administered to the Holy Father, and my boyfriend and I watched CNN for about an hour.
Friday it became obvious the end was near. One professor and hooked up the large screen in the auditorium to play EWTN and I watched the Mass at the Lateran, remembering especially the "Anima Christi." I went over to the Basilica where Exposition was underway.
There was a false report of John Paul's death midafternoon, and the bells started tolling. Within five minutes, the President elect, the Reverend Father John Jenkins was praying in the church. My respect for him skyrocketed that day.
Friday night was a quiet affair. I remember at the Mass of the Blessed Virgin Saturday morning, the celebrant, the chaplain of the law school, being so moved as he gave his homily about John Paul meeting the Mother whom he loved so much when he got to heaven. Notre Dame might have some of the last priests ordained under John Paul II- that Saturday was Ordinations for the Congregation of the Holy Cross.
I spent the day studying in the library with my boyfriend, and checking the internet every half hour or so. At some point I ran into a friend who told me his mother had just called him- the Holy Father had passed.
We prayed a decade of the Rosary in one of the small study rooms in the basement of Hesburgh library. I walked outside after. It was a clear sunny day, and the bells tolled unceasingly. We went to the Vigil Mass afterwards, where the church was full and a large image of John Paul placed in front of the ambo.
The death of the pope was clearly marked. The Basilica was draped in black bunting, and the bells tolled from the time of his death until the funeral, if I remember correctly. I knew there was no better place to be this side of the Atlantic.
Posted by: Lucy at Apr 2, 2006 9:47:42 AM
I was in my bedroom doing housework. Fox News on in the living room. When his death was announced, I immediately stopped what I was doing and rushed to the living room. And I wept. Then I called Amy (my wife and then-fiancee, not our host here) at her workplace.
Posted by: Dave Pawlak at Apr 2, 2006 9:47:47 AM
We were spending the week with my aunt and grandmother in the Outer Banks. Though we were all checking the news channels pretty much all week, we still were on the beach daily. The actual afternoon (our time) it was announed that the Pope had passed, my husband, my son, and I were in the sand and the surfe. We figure at the actual moment of his passing we were in the process of losing a kite when the string broke in the wind. In a much more capable writer's hands there is probably some gorgeous metaphor to be constructed here, maybe not with the kite in the ocean, but maybe the setting sun, or the toddler filling and dumping sand, or some other aspect of our outing that day but the reality was more like this: We lost our kite. We drove back to my aunt's house and learned the Pope died. We went to dinner anyway.
I was surprised that my grandmother, who rarely goes out to eat dinner because it doesn't interest her as much as her books and quiet anymore, greeted us, lipsticked and ready, particularly after hearing the news. My daily Mass-going, Liturgy of the Hours-praying, Frequent Adoration-devotee grandmother told us on the way out the door, "Oh yes, the Pope died while you were out." But she followed that up with something like we may as well get dinner, since no one cooked anything, nor were they planning on it. Like American Papist said, time didn't come to a halt.
Posted by: ambrose at Apr 2, 2006 10:02:48 AM
I saw the false report of his death on the EWTN website, froze and called a friend of mine who, as "things" turn out, will be entering the RC church in two weeks. After I called her back and told her of the mistake, we both knew that it was a matter of hours. Then I took out the wide, black satin ribbon I had bought just two days before. When I was in the fabric store buying it, the nice Jewish lady asked me, "How much do you need? What are you making?" When I told her I planned to make a funeral wreath for JPII, right away the woman got teary-eyed. "Oh! Oh, I love that man! Such a good man; oh, I've got chills! How sad, how sad!"
Posted by: KH at Apr 2, 2006 10:19:04 AM
Reading all your stories is a great blessing, but it has me in tears again.
Eventually went to bed praying "your will be done, but please not while we are all asleep."
Our great Holy Father was still hanging in there when I awoke, so it was back to the TV for the rest of the day.
That was exactly what I did, Bender. I went to bed Friday night dreading waking up and hearing that the Holy Father died while I was asleep. I was so grateful for my sake, if not for his, that he lived a few more hours.
Throughout John Paul's illness, I was sick with a fever, too. Knowing how miserable I felt, as an otherwise healthy younger person, I could only imagine what he must have been going through. Suffering at the same time gave me a sense of solidarity and I offered up every ache and pain for him.
As a stay at home mom, I had the ability to keep a constant television vigil and to watch and discuss things with my children. It helped my grieving heart that the coverage was almost completely respectful. I'm still shocked by that.
I was huddled on my couch with a box of tissues and a bottle of Advil when the official word came of the Holy Father's death. I cried, prayed and cried some more. Of course I was happy that he was now in heaven, but I was sad to lose him. I knew that I'd never again be able to speak of him without my eyes welling up.
Posted by: Jennifer N. at Apr 2, 2006 10:29:23 AM
Double posting to respond to KH...
Then I took out the wide, black satin ribbon I had bought just two days before.
I did the same thing, KH. Two days earlier I had gone to the fabric store and bought black satin ribbon to make a mourning wreath. I constructed the wreath while watching coverage of John Paul's last day of life. When he died, I hung it on our front door until the conclave began. Then I made a white wreath for when our new pope was elected.
It meant a lot to me to do something to express my family's mourning. I think it's a shame that our society has discarded the old customs... the black bunting, arm bands, black clothing. To me it says to others, "Please proceed gently. Our hearts are grieving.".
Posted by: Jennifer N. at Apr 2, 2006 10:36:26 AM
My friend and I did a pro-life vigil in the rain the morning he died. We were wondering whether he'd die during the vigil at the abortion clinics.
I dropped her off and listened to Catholic radio on the way home. Maybe secular radio, too, which was also keeping vigil at St. Peter's. It was obvious the end was very near.
I got home and went on the Internet (I have no cable here). I listened to the EWTN streaming on the Internet while they were praying the rosary in St. Peter's Square, and especially the Salve Regina for him.
I remembered the first time I had access to EWTN (shortwave). The reception was horrible, but it was during John Paul II's visit to the US in 1995. On saturday afternoon he prayed the rosary and intoned the Salve Regina, which I thought was pretty but didn't know the words to. But I knew the words by April 2, 2005 and chanted along with the thousands in the square serenading to our beloved Pope.
Then, several minutes later, his death was announced. That's when I knew where I'd be attending Mass the next day. My alma mater in Orchard Lake was having a Divine Mercy Mass. Karol Wojtyla had visited the campus twice as cardinal.
I went in the chapel and prayed in front of the icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa. Once Mass started, the Chancellor told us that Cardinal Wojtyla had given the icon to the school as a gift during his last visit the year before he became pope.
Posted by: Chris at Apr 2, 2006 10:38:08 AM
I was in line for confession during a Holy Hour at St. Victor's in West Hollywood. It occured to me that, if it hadn't been for John Paul II, I probably wouldn't have been there at all -- I probably wouldn't be in Los Angeles, I likely wouldn't have gravitated toward the Eucharist and the other sacraments, etc.
John Paul II once wrote that the family always remains the existential horizon of one's existence. I think this is true of one's supernatural family as well as one's natural family. And, on that horizon, the figure of John Paul II will always loom large in my life. To forget him would be to forget one of the primary formative influences in my life... in a sense, to forget who I am.
Posted by: Clayton at Apr 2, 2006 10:48:52 AM
I was at home obsessively refreshing CNN.com when it happened, and felt very unmoored afterwards. My husband decided it would be good to get out of the house, so we went downtown - we live in Salt Lake City and that weekend (like this one) was the weekend of the spring LDS general conference, so downtown was absolutely flooded with people, all in their Sunday best; suits, ties, long dresses. We went to a bookstore cafe and just watched all the people streaming in and out of the temple. I was about twenty-one weeks along then and remember feeling the baby squirm and thinking how odd it was that he would never have John Paul as his Pope. Overall, just a feeling of empty rootlessness.
Posted by: Sonetka at Apr 2, 2006 10:58:10 AM
I was out-of-state, and didn't really have access to a television. That Friday before, I saw some of the television coverage, saying it was the end, but I took it with a grain of salt. He's an old man; stuff happens. I called home from a payphone on the side of a road somewhere in the late afternoon on Saturday, and was told the Pope had died. I didn't have an emotional response, as a lot of people did. It was kind of just a quiet feeling in my stomach that he was really gone. I was surprised, and a little anxious about where we were going next as a Church. I went to Mass the next day, and the Church had a Papal banner draped outside the Church, and a big picture of JP and Divine Mercy near the altar. The rest of the week was just all-JP2 coverage, all the time, which I was able to follow when I got back home.
I'm hoping that his Feast becomes a big one in the Latin Church, kind of like St. John Chrysostom for the East. He was our "golden-mouth", and every day that passes without him, I am more and more appreciative of the great gift he gave us, the gift of himself.
Posted by: Jason at Apr 2, 2006 11:36:21 AM
I was having lunch in a pub/sports-bar with a priest-mentor on Friday when they made a false report of His Holiness' death. A few minutes later they re-canted, but we all knew his time on earth was short.
The next day I was at a Fourth Degree exemplification for the Knights of Columbus. Our (then) coadjutor Bishop was there and somebody called him out of the room during a presentation - we all knew. At the next opportunity, the sad news was announced. Needless to say, it put a damper on the festivities, but what happened is that many shared memories of the late Great pontiff - it was like a good Catholic wake.
Posted by: Fr. Totton at Apr 2, 2006 12:19:13 PM
The first report had me irritated with the press for their obsession with John Paul II's "imminent" death (for the past 10 years, at least). When I realized that this time, it was really true, I was surprised with the depth of sadness I felt, even though it was inevitable and inevitably soon.
Posted by: Mary Kay at Apr 2, 2006 12:32:47 PM
Like many others, we'd been watching closely for several weeks as our Pope entered and left the hospital. On Easter Sunday, I had downloaded many pictures from Yahoo, wanting to hold on to the image of John Paul II's struggle to speak, his anguish and then resignation as his spoken word ministry ended. I still cannot look at those photos without sorrow for all we lost when this great man left us.
On Saturday, April 2, we watched cable coverage all morning. In the early afternoon, we had to head across town to drop my husband's motorcycle off for maintenance. None of our local radio stations were following the story (this is a very Baptist town), so neither of us heard anything at the moment of his passing.
As I arrived at the bike shop, and was about to get out of the car, I heard the announcement on the top of the hour NPR newsbreak. I walked over to my husband, as he removed his helmet, and managed to say "We've lost him," before dissolving into tears.
We drove home quietly, and spent much of the next two weeks engrossed in the story. We prayed the novena, got up early for the funeral (which we watched on C-SPAN while following along on EWTN's website), and took advantage of the opportunities to answer questions from friends and family about the Catholic Church. A bout of pneumonia kept me home for two weeks in April, so I was able to follow the papabile pontificating, and watch the chimney-cam.
I am so grateful for John Paul II's very public life, including his public suffering, showing us both the dignity of all of life and the never-failing mercy and love of God. Subito Santo!
Posted by: St. Elizabeth of Cayce at Apr 2, 2006 12:39:04 PM
It's hard to believe that it's been a year.
Dom and I, then engaged, were at a day of talks on marriage and family by Scott and Kimberly Hahn at Holy Family parish in Rockland, MA. Dom had his laptop set up in the lobby and kept slipping out of the talks to check the news. He was responsible for posting the story on CWN.com when it broke and we were pretty sure it would be that day. It seemed strange to be waiting for the news in that journalistic manner... worried about missing the moment. But I kept reminding myself that many people depended on the website to inform them.
When Dom returned from one of his lobby trips and slid in beside me, he leaned over and whispered that it had happened: our Holy Father was gone.
My first thought was an image my sister had passed on to me: John Paul and Mother Teresa dancing in heaven. And how happy he would be to finally be there with the Blessed Mother whom he loved. I both wanted to laugh with joy and cry... an emotion that Cardinal Ratzinger captured again so beautifully during his funeral homily with the image of John Paul leaning out of a window in heaven.
But as happy as I was for him, I still felt like an orphan.
Dom had evidently told Father Clark, whose parish it was, and Father told Scott Hahn so that when Kimberly was done with her final talk Scott took the microphone again, made the announcement and led us all in prayer. It was wonderful, comforting to be surrounded by so many of my family members in prayer, even if most of them were strangers. I was so glad I was there and not watching on television or listening to the radio.
Posted by: MelanieB at Apr 2, 2006 12:57:30 PM
Wow, I don't know why I am so teary eyed today, but all of your posts got me going bigtime. My dog is staring at me wondering what is wrong.
I was in the car driving when I heard and I just let the tears come. I noticed others around me also crying. I went home and my neighbors (non-Catholics) called out from there open windows to ask if I was o.k., which I truly appreciated.
I was happy for him but sad for us. The old saying that death is hardest on the living most certainly is true. I was happy to think of him seeing his family again. I felt that way also when Mother Teresa died because she was never allowed by the communist government of Yugoslavia (I think) to see her mother before she died, so I was happy to think of her seeing her mother again.
I cry easily so I wasn't surprised that I wept but as one poster put it above I did also have a sense of being without an anchor and I was very worried about what would come next!
Thank you Holy Father JPII!
Posted by: Kathleen at Apr 2, 2006 1:06:00 PM
