I never had the chance to say hello. But I stood in line to say goodbye.
After Pope Francis died, my editors asked me to fly to Italy in advance of a move next month to take up the post of Rome bureau chief. I recently finished an eight-year tour in Tokyo and had thought I would cover the twilight of Francis’s term.
Instead, after arriving Thursday night to help report on the funeral and upcoming Conclave to elect Francis’ successor, I wandered over to St. Peter’s Square on Friday morning. I wasn’t planning to linger. I hadn’t picked up my press badge yet, and had read my colleagues’ stories about people waiting for hours to pass before Pope Francis’ coffin.
Once I joined the flow of the faithful, I didn’t want to leave the line. I felt an undeniable pull to stay.
It was a holiday in Italy and many locals stood to wait along with thousands of tourists and pilgrims. I heard Italian, Spanish, English and many other languages. There were nuns in their habits, older people in wheelchairs, youth groups dressed in identical T-shirts and carrying matching drawstring backpacks.
Despite the heavy police presence, the order was loose, with some people weaving in and out and passing ahead, as if on a congested freeway on a weekend. There was not much grumbling, perhaps in deference to the solemn reason we were there.
Mourners standing in wait along with thousands of tourists and pilgrims. Credit…James Hill for The New York Times
