Pope Francis, the gentle yet bold voice from the ends of the earth, has gone home to the Father. His staff now rests, his shoes of the fisherman no longer tread the paths of the world—but his footprints remain deeply imprinted on the soul of the Church.

He was a shepherd who smelled like his sheep. He walked among the poor, embraced the wounded, and called the Church to remember God's mercy above all else. With a heart open to the margins, he reminded us that no one is too far gone or too broken for grace.

In the night of sorrow, we remember that even now, the Shepherd watches over the flock—just from a different pasture. Like Mary Magdalene at the tomb, we may be tempted to weep, to cling, to ask why. But the voice of the Risen Lord gently reminds us, "Do not hold on to me… but go and tell."

The pen is not abandoned. Christ remains the true Shepherd. And Pope Francis—our brother, our pastor—now prays for us from the eternal hills, where every tear is wiped away, and mercy sings without end.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May he rest in peace.
And may the Church he loved so deeply,
walk on in hope.