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The day the world stopped ..

like every day I got off the stop 12 in the passing Belgrano Av Entre Rios and crossed the street to Moreno return on foot.
At the corner of Belgrano and Entre Rios was the supermarket Disco. There was at one of its windows a variety of televisions on offer. All of them announcing the same news.
international news agency Reuters announced the death of Karol Wojtyla, Pope John Paul II. It was autumn of 2005 and every evening was studying journalism in high school. Such
news left me so cold that I lost track of time, I was in front of televisions for more information.

What is not realized until I spent a few minutes was that I was not the only one I had stopped to see that window. We were already more than five people that stopped the routine, our daily journey to see what was happening. How could it be? How could it be that there was one so far but so close to the time?
There was no data to develop the story, so the screen just constantly repeated the same thing. The sound of cell
distracted me. The display contained about 10 unread messages from family and friends. All announcing the bad news.

returned to my home as if it were the death of a relative. In a way it was. For when I got the news had been confirmed. Then there was a scene that gave me goosebumps. There were millions of people who gathered in St. Peter's Square to bid farewell to the Holy Father. Never better said. Ghost. Nobody could take that tagline. Ghost.
My whole family had gathered around the television in the kitchen. All silent. Behind me you could hear the cries of my mother who could not hold back tears. If it was not the only doubt.
How could it be? How could it be that there was one so far but so close to the time?

To avoid the awkward he remembered when he and my dad went to see one of his visits to the Argentina. I remembered the first time I saw him on television. It was the opening game of the World Cup in Italy 90 in Milan.
How could it be? What we knew so much without even knowing him personally.
someone so dear, that broke the barriers of indifference when they were thousands who were not Catholic or who did not share our commitment to the Church and yet as we were so distressed that day.

How anyone could be so human?
How can anyone take such testimony of forgiveness and compassion, visiting and forgiving the one who wanted to end his life?
How anyone can give messages of hope even in the agony, when the flame of life is to extinguish?
"If Christ has not got off the cross, I will not either."
After all this thought: What else remained to be done? Perhaps it was a heart to win? Any message that has not already given? Not with words but with actions.
saddened Catholics and non Catholics alike, and sharing our pain. The land cried one of his loved ones but in heaven, secure all received him with joy: "Welcome Home Karol." From then on never recall his death with sadness.
With his death taught me that death is indeed a way of life.
How could it be? Only a holy man. Only a holy man may be capable of all that and more.

For Ezekiel Pernice (J. XXXVIII)

Hail Mary and Come ...!
De Colores ...!