Pope Francis, who transformed the papacy with his humility and global advocacy for compassion and justice, has died at 88 and now lies in state at St. Peter’s Basilica as thousands gather to honor his legacy before his unprecedented burial at the Basilica of St. Mary Major.

Inside the towering majesty of St. Peter’s Basilica, beneath the ornate dome that has witnessed centuries of faith and history, thousands have gathered in quiet procession.

They come from all walks of life—clergy, politicians, families, tourists, and the devout—all drawn to the same solemn sight: the open casket of Pope Francis, lying in state for the world to see.

Draped in red papal vestments and holding a simple wooden rosary, his still figure rests on an inclined platform, surrounded by the ever-watchful Swiss Guard.

The mood is one of hushed reverence, mingled with an air of disbelief that the man who led the Catholic Church into a more compassionate and socially conscious era is now gone.

Pope Francis died on April 21, 2025, at the age of 88, after suffering a cerebral stroke worsened by a constellation of chronic health conditions including bronchiectasis, pneumonia, high blood pressure, and type II diabetes.

His death, though not unexpected given his long medical history, has nevertheless sent a wave of emotion across the globe.

This is not just the passing of a religious leader—it is the departure of a figure who reshaped the very image of the papacy, turning it from a throne of authority into a seat of humility.

Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Pope Francis became the first Jesuit pope, the first from the Americas, and the first non-European pontiff in over 1,200 years when he was elected in March 2013.

From the beginning, he broke with convention. He chose to live in a modest Vatican guesthouse rather than the ornate Apostolic Palace.

He washed the feet of prisoners and migrants, championed interfaith dialogue, and emphasized mercy over judgment. His papacy often stirred debate—but it also stirred hope.

His final public appearance came during Easter Sunday, where he blessed thousands from the balcony of St. Peter’s, despite visible frailty and labored speech.

The very next day, he fell into a coma and never regained consciousness. His last words were a whispered “thank you” to a longtime aide, embodying his lifelong mantra of gratitude and service.

As the line of mourners stretches for blocks outside the basilica, some clutch rosaries while others carry photos or letters addressed to the man they considered not just a pope, but a moral guide in a turbulent world.

Many speak of how he made them feel seen—single mothers, divorced Catholics, the LGBTQ+ faithful, the poor, the marginalized. Francis was known for challenging both Church and societal norms, urging Catholics to move beyond doctrine and into the realm of active compassion.

The Vatican has announced that the viewing will continue through April 25, allowing people from around the world to say goodbye. Security is tight, with international dignitaries already arriving in Rome for the funeral, set to be held on April 26.

Among those expected to attend are U.S. President Donald Trump, Prince William of the British royal family, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy.

The funeral will be presided over by Cardinal Pietro Parolin, the Vatican’s Secretary of State, and is expected to draw millions via global broadcast.

In a break from centuries of tradition, Pope Francis requested not to be buried in the crypts of St. Peter’s Basilica but rather at the Basilica of St. Mary Major, one of Rome’s oldest and most beloved churches.

This was a place he frequently visited before and after his international trips, often slipping in unnoticed to pray before the icon of the Virgin Mary. It was a quiet corner of Rome where he found solace, and now, it will become his final resting place.

Inside his coffin are coins minted during each year of his papacy, a Vatican tradition symbolizing the temporal span of his leadership.

But what truly encapsulates his legacy isn’t contained within relics or rituals—it is in the stories now being shared by ordinary people across continents.

In Manila, a young man recounts how the pope’s encyclicals inspired him to become a climate activist. In Nairobi, a nun speaks of how his words empowered her to launch a school for street children.

In Buenos Aires, the priest who once served alongside Bergoglio recalls a man who preferred walking through slums over sitting in cathedrals.

The conclave to elect the next pope is set to begin shortly after May 5, and the world waits with bated breath to see who will follow in the footsteps of a man who redefined the very essence of papal leadership.

There is already speculation about potential successors from Asia, Africa, and Latin America, reflecting the Church’s increasingly global face. But for now, the spotlight remains on the man who spoke simply, acted boldly, and lived gently.

In death, Pope Francis continues to unite the world as he did in life—not through edicts or dogma, but through the quiet force of example. His papacy was not perfect, but it was profoundly human.

And as mourners pass his casket in the heart of Vatican City, it becomes clear: the man once dismissed as a humble cardinal from the global South has become one of the most influential pontiffs of the modern era. His story may have ended, but his impact is far from over.