Ponderings on Grief

During Holy Week, one of the features I watched on TV was Pope John Paul II's contribution to history - particularly his role in the fall of the communist bloc. I even remember remarking that such a feature seems to forebode John Paul II's death soon for the documentary struck me like a eulogy.

Fast forward to April 2. The round-the-clock Vatican watch on the cable news networks when it became apparent that John Paul II may die anytime soon was, to me, overkill. Therefore, it was not surprising when my brother told me Sunday morning (Saturday afternoon in the Vatican) that John Paul II is dead.

I felt none of the grief that some of the people expressed when interviewed by roving reporters. The Holy Week documentary prepared me for the probability, the Vatican watch in cable news imprinted to me the inevitable. The announcement of the death was merely confirmation of the expected. By then, I was already looking forward to who the next pope will be.

I find this as an example of how media, particularly news as reported these days, could take away the feelings out of an event or a moment such as the dying of a well-loved Pope of the Catholic Church.

It was not until yesterday, April 4, that I felt grief over his death. It only took one paragraph to make me feel it - and because of it, any coverage these days of the wake leading to John Paul II's burial will bring on grief even if only a touch. What brought it on? It was an account of his final moment, which, to date, is not even confirmed yet. According to Rev. O'Connell in an interview with CNN (transcript here: http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/04/03/oconnell/):

"...in the pope's last minutes he grasped the hand of Archbishop
[Stanislaw] Dziwisz.
And looking out the window, the curtains were not drawn,
he was looking out the window. And he said, "amen." And then he passed
on..."

His supposed act of farewell sealed it. That is when his being gone hit me. For me, it meant - he had done all he could of what he must as leader of his flock, and now that his body is failing, he accepts the end of his life, and his ministry, and looks forward to what God has set aside for him in the afterlife. He died gracefully, and it is the beauty of that moment that touched me, to the point that sometimes, my eyes threaten to cry if I allow them.