Waiting in line for the Pope

Today is a good day to share a story about waiting in line for 12 hours to see the Pope lying in state at the Vatican. Back in 2003. Here’s part of the story from my book, “A European Odyssey; how a boxer’s daughter found grace”.

Excerpt:

Everyone felt the gravity of the announcement. The Pope was dying and I lived just minutes from the epicenter. History’s most well-traveled Pope and first non-Italian to hold the title of Bishop since the sixteenth century was allowing the Eternal City to unify the past and present. Italians won’t react unless they have to do it in a minute. They prefer to turn on a dime after reducing one another to tears. That’s how her non-residents are made to feel; it’s a right of passage. The locals have to experience it so why shouldn’t we? Yet they have the edge, weighed down by history and now it was unfolding in real time. It felt epic. I had to get in on the performance.

I started walking up the Gianicolo and down to the Vatican on a daily basis. In the early stages, the media were all kept at a safe distance from the piazza, our space was still sacred. The religious and curious pilgrims had yet to descend from all corners of the planet. For the time being, it was just me and the locals roaming around the ancient Egyptian obelisk. We were acutely aware of the impending drama; like the calm before the storm. Some of us stood along the periphery beneath the colonnade, then we’d find our way to the forecourt, where we could look up at the Papal apartments. We were told the lights stayed on while he was alive. We kept vigil.

Then the lights went dark. The Pope was gone. I was triggered.

If I remained in limbo, history unfolded around me, and fast. Present time had finally arrived in the Eternal City, it was picking up speed and kicking into fourth gear. The media moved in unmercifully. It was insane and took such little effort to put aside tedious particulars and household duties…