10/05/2025
Goodbye, Papa Francesco
Grief is a slow, silent tide. You think it’s passed, until memory brings it back.
When the news broke on 21 April that Pope Francis had passed away—just after Easter—I was stunned. We had just prayed for his recovery from pneumonia. There was hope, and then, he was gone.
It puzzled me, this ache. I had only encountered Papa Francesco over three days in Singapore, yet the sorrow was deep. I was part of a team of 40+ volunteer photographers documenting his historic visit in Sept 2024. We trained, planned, gave up credit and copyrights—offering our work as a gift to the Church. It was humbling, and unexpectedly personal.
Before that, I knew Pope Francis from afar—as a beloved public figure, a shepherd for the global Church. But during his visit, he became more than that. I followed him from Jurassic Mile, to the Papal Mass, and finally to St Theresa’s Home. I was within earshot of his words, seeing him not through headlines, but through my lens.
And on that last day, something moved me. I put down my camera, took out my rosary, and asked, “Papa, please bless my rosary.” He stopped, took my hands, covered the beads, and smiled.
That was the photo I never took. But it’s forever etched in my heart.
That moment changed him from Pope to spiritual father. Kin. Now I understand why grief was slow in coming—because I didn’t know how to say goodbye. The closer the bond, the harder the farewell.
With a new Pope now guiding us, I can finally say it:
Goodbye, Papa. I love you. Goodbye.
The last photo was taken by my colleague Alexandria, when Pope Francis blessed my rosary beads.
Photo credit: The Titular Roman Catholic Archbishop of Singapore. Used with permission.