An Intense Weekend in Rome: At The Funeral of Pope Francis

PART 145: It might be interesting to share how we pulled off living in Italy for part of the year. I will post some steps and what we are learning along the way.

We love every minute of it, and what was once a dream is our life!

We live in Tuscany in the Fall, then back again in the Spring, and in California for the rest of the time (in a previous blog, I explained why we live in Italy only part of the year).

Step 1: As we explore areas in Italy, we discover some gems worth sharing. Some are well-known tourist magnets, and others are lesser-known but always amazing. 

This week, let's explore our adventures in Rome at the funeral of Pope Francis.

Step 2: Last we saw him

"Wasn't that amazing!" my partner exclaimed as the Popemobile passed by on Easter Sunday. "I actually made eye contact with him," he continued.

It was true; we had decided to go to Rome for the Easter weekend, and a good friend there had obtained tickets for us to attend the outdoor Easter Sunday service.

The liturgy was beautiful, and joy filled the air, creating a celebratory atmosphere throughout the service. It was even more special when Pope Francis stepped out onto the balcony to deliver his Easter message and blessing.

Once he retreated and the bands began to play, my partner suggested we quickly exit to avoid the crowds. We hurried down the steps toward the exit until I spotted a much-needed bathroom. "I will be right back," I said as I slipped inside.

Many people were using the bathroom, so it took a few minutes before I emerged again. Just as I did, an announcement was made: "Pope Francis is coming down momentarily to greet the faithful."

Before we knew it, a guard ushered us into an enclosed area with about eight other people, and a few minutes later, we saw the white jeep approaching.

Because we were near the Vatican City entrance from which the jeep was coming, we were able to see him and wave twice. He passed just about four feet in front of us.

It's difficult to describe what I felt at that moment—a mix of excitement, disbelief, joy, amazement, and gratitude.

As we waited for the jeep to come around a second time, we both expressed how surprising it was to be so close to Pope Francis, whom I have always admired and considered my hero.

Step 3: Back to Tuscany

Our drive back to our place in Tuscany took about three hours. "Do you feel like cooking tonight?" my partner asked. I shook my head. "Let's stop at our favorite café and get some Pici," he suggested, referring to the thick spaghetti-like noodles with ragu sauce. It didn't take much to convince me.

Since we go to this café (https://www.dabegname.it/ ) every morning for coffee, we enjoy their food and have become friends with some of the staff and the owner, who is a wonderful woman.

We walked in, greeted everyone, and stood in line to order our takeout dinner. "I'm so glad you got to see the Pope before he passed away," our friend, the owner, said. I turned to her, thinking it was a poorly-timed joke. She continued, "I saw on your Facebook page that you got to see him up close. I'm glad for you…" As she spoke, I fumbled for my phone. "You're kidding, aren't you?" I blurted out. I finally opened my phone, clicked on the news, and saw the headlines.

I called out to my partner, who was on the other side of the café, "Pope Francis died this morning!" Our friend, the owner, backed away, visibly upset, saying, "I can't talk about this." I sank into a chair as my partner walked away to gather himself before sitting next to me.

"I can't believe this. We could almost touch him yesterday, and today he's gone."

We sat there silently for a long time, trying to process what had just happened.

When we got our food, we drove home in silence. Pope Francis was gone.

Step 4: Back to Rome. The lodging.

The suddenness of his death, combined with the joy of being so close to Pope Francis the day before, made it difficult for me to find any emotional closure. I didn't want to forget what had happened; instead, I wanted to come to terms with it.

"Why don't we return to Rome for a night? We can attend the viewing and play the funeral by ear; that way, I can say 'thank you' and 'goodbye' to the Pope," I suggested. My partner, feeling the same way, readily agreed.

Next, we needed to decide how to make the trip.

A friend of mine in Rome informed us that the funeral would likely be on Saturday, and if we arrived on Friday, we could probably see Pope Francis lying in state. The word "probably" bothered me, though, and I wanted some certainty before booking a place to stay overnight.

We went for coffee, as we often do, and while there, we browsed possible accommodations for Friday night. We found several great options near the Vatican and narrowed our search to three or four places.

Around 10:15 a.m., I checked my news feed and confirmed that the funeral was indeed on Saturday and that the viewing would be available until Friday at 7 p.m. Immediately, we grabbed our phones to book one of the places we had pre-selected, only to watch them all vanish before our eyes. Suddenly, AirBnB listings popped up, charging 400-600 euros per night!

Realizing time was of the essence, we knew we had to book a place within the next few minutes or risk missing out.

I rarely use Booking.com, but I decided to check it for options. I found a place that looked to be near the Vatican, received reviews like "Wonderful" and "Excellent," and the photos appeared inviting. "It's about 200 euros a night; should I book it before we lose it?" I asked. My partner agreed, so I completed the booking.

We were set.

Upon arriving in Rome, we parked the car and made our way to the lodging, only to discover it was farther from the Vatican than we had expected, and the neighborhood left much to be desired. "I didn't think such a run-down area could be close to St. Peter's," my partner remarked.

When we entered the lodging, our reactions were the same. "What the heck?" I exclaimed, using the word with two "l" s. What a dump," my partner added.

Unlike the photos, the room was tiny and filled only with a bed and two cheap, wobbly folding plastic chairs that seemed likely to break if we sat on them. The shower was moldy, and the bedspread hadn't been washed.

I felt guilty since I had pushed to book this place out of fear we would miss out. "I'm just going to sleep in my clothes tonight; there might be bedbugs," my partner said.

I didn't want our poor lodging to dampen our day, so I suggested we consider the trip a pilgrimage, complete with the minor hardships it entails since we were there to see Pope Francis one last time and not to enjoy an elegant room. (Although "elegant" was part of the lodging's name.)

We made our peace with the shabby accommodations, secured our belongings, and set out to get in line for the viewing.

Step 5: The viewing

We had been informed that we would have to wait in line for 4 to 5 hours before we could enter the basilica to see Pope Francis lying in state, so we took along some water bottles and snacks to prepare for the wait.

When we arrived, we noticed many young people in line, and the process seemed well organized. First, we had to pass through security. A few obnoxious individuals tried to cut in front of those waiting, but I decided to let it go.

Once we cleared security, we joined the line that snaked around the piazza. Surprisingly, the line moved faster than expected, and in about 2 hours, we were inside!

The day before our visit, I had read an article by a friend of Pope Francis, Antonio Spadaro, who described the contrast between the rigid, lifeless body of the Pope and the vibrant, compassionate figure we knew—always bending down to embrace others, washing the feet of prisoners, and kissing the feet of South Sudanese political leaders as he implored them to stop the war. This article helped set the context for me as I gazed upon the body of Pope Francis, who no longer looked like the man we knew but was rigid instead. It was not shocking; I felt grateful to be there.

We were able to move to the side and take a moment to reflect. During this time, I felt a sense of peace as I thanked Pope Francis for who he was, said my goodbyes, and prayed for those dear to me.

As we left the basilica, I felt a mix of sadness, joy, and a sense of completion.

Step 6: The funeral

We didn't sleep well at our AirBnB from hell, so getting up early to see if we could attend the funeral wasn't a problem. We dropped our belongings in the car, parked near the Vatican at a parking garage, and then walked over to the Vatican area after asking a police officer for directions.

We spotted a crowd waiting in what could hardly be described as a "line." A fence and gate held everyone back, and security guards and volunteers instructed people to wait. We anticipated a wait, but it was difficult amidst an ever-growing crowd—some pious-looking women were elbowing their way ahead while others were pushing us from behind.

After about 40 minutes, the guards opened the gate, and we rushed forward, only to find ourselves in another mob of people. "I can't do this," my partner said. "I'm going to watch from the outside; you go ahead, and I'll meet you at the car afterward." Though I wanted him to stay, I understood how the chaotic atmosphere could be overwhelming. Before I could respond, he was gone.

I remained in the crowd, and after another 30 minutes, the gate opened again, allowing me to slip through!

Once inside, I quickly passed through security and was free from the mob. There was ample space within the security area, so I walked to the far side of the Via della Conciliazione and positioned myself right behind a wooden barrier in front of a jumbotron. Here, I could watch the proceedings on the screen without being pushed.

As I stood there, enjoying my newfound space, I noticed that security guards periodically let large groups of people through the gate at the middle of the Via della Conciliazione, allowing them to approach the piazza more closely.

I faced a decision: whether to stay where I was, watching the funeral from a distance on the jumbotron, or take the risk of moving through the gate when it opened to see how close I could get. I wavered: stay or go, stay or go.

I decided to take the chance after about 40 minutes in my secure space, and 90 minutes before the funeral.

I left my safe spot and stepped through the open gate, joining a crowd of others passing through.

I went with the crowd, and after about five minutes, I found myself in Piazza San Pietro, near the central obelisk, facing the basilica. I couldn't believe how quickly I had moved! One minute, I was halfway back on the Via della Conciliazione, and the next, I was in the middle of the piazza.

"Maybe this is meant to be," I thought.

I positioned myself behind a large group of teenagers sitting on the ground and waited for the funeral to begin.

I couldn't believe my good fortune!

When the funeral finally started, I was struck by the small, simple wooden coffin placed among some of the world's most powerful people. It was a stark contrast—the simplicity of this man who taught others how to live through humility and always spoke of peace in the midst of world leaders who often have other priorities.

Transitioning from standing on the sidelines in front of the jumbotron to being in the piazza shifted my role from a spectator to a participant, for which I was grateful.

I found the funeral to be moving, sad, and inspiring.

Step 7: The aftermath

The crowd control after the funeral was excellent, and in just a few moments, I found myself outside the piazza. Since we had parked on Janiculum Hill, I only needed to walk down one street and cross another, and then we could jump in the car and drive home to Tuscany.

"Sorry, you cannot cross this street," a police officer told me. "The funeral procession, with the Pope's casket, is coming through. You have to wait before crossing, and this could take a while. Or you can go around," she said, pointing towards the crowded round castle and bridge area.

Rather than waiting, I decided to take the longer route, walking behind the crowd. After about half an hour, I finally reached the other side of the Tiber. I just needed to go to the next bridge, cross over, and I would be at the garage!

When I arrived at the next bridge, another police officer said, "Sorry, you cannot cross. " I had no idea what was happening; security was tight, with police rafts in the river, a drone overhead, and officers scanning the sky with binoculars.

I couldn't move for a while, so I leaned against the bridge to wait until they let us through.

Then, there was a commotion, followed by a long line of police officers on motorcycles. "What's happening?" I asked the woman next to me. "I think they are bringing Pope Francis through here," she replied.

Within five minutes, I looked up and saw the vehicle carrying the casket with Pope Francis right in front of me—very close, since there weren't many people on that bridge. Perhaps they, like me, didn't realize the funeral procession was passing through.

It was incredible to have the opportunity to say "thank you" and goodbye to Pope Francis three times: once in the basilica the day before, again during the funeral, and now, during the procession.

Step 8: The Gratitude

"How was it?" my partner asked as I got into the car a few minutes later.

"I feel a sense of completion now that I didn't have before. I am so grateful. These days have been magical. Thank you for being a part of it."

Then we drove home, filled with the experience.

More next time.

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