I met him

Well, I came very close to meeting Pope John Paul II in the 80's when he came to Toronto. I don't seem to remember it like everyone else, I think it was september '84.

I am not even catholic anymore. Too many conflicts with the way I've grown to see the world. I don't even agree with everything the Pope has said. But I remember the overwhelming emotion in being very very close to the man. Three times on that visit. To my young mind, he recognized me the third time. I dismissed it immediately as foolish, but I really felt something incredible coming from him.

It was an immense emotion, a wave of it hit me. I was swept up in it, I held my mother's hand and I cried. And now he's dying. He's 10 years younger than my grandmother and in much worse shape. She's forgetting a few things now and again, but is still very lucid. My grandfather is a different story-he's older than the Pope and very ill. I spoke with my grandmother yesterday -- In Chile-- and she told me she was sad the Pope was dying. He was a huge part of my upbringing, I don't remember the Pope before him. Twenty six years ago, I was 9.

Catholic or no, religious or not, his presence is a powerful one here. I am not catholic anymore, I don't really pray so much as meditate. . . I cried when I experienced the power and love of his presence and I will cry again when it is gone.