The queues of people outside St. Peter's Basilica on April 24, 2025. ROGER YU/EXPAT MEDIA

Expat Media’s correspondent Roger Yu shares a first-person account of waiting hours in line to pay final respects to Pope Francis, offering a glimpse into the wake, funeral details, and the process of choosing the next pope. Here's the former Dubai expat's account: I waited in line for six hours under the warm Roman sun, surrounded by strangers—pilgrims, clergy, tourists, and locals—all of us inching forward with a shared purpose: to say goodbye to Pope Francis. It was Wednesday (April 23) when I arrived in Rome, and my first stop was the Basilica of St. Mary Major—where the pope had asked to be buried, breaking Vatican tradition. I lit a candle there, whispered a prayer, then made my way straight to St. Peter’s Basilica. I wasn’t sure what to expect. The crowds were massive but hushed. There was a strange serenity in the air, a reverence that blanketed the thousands of us waiting. By the time I reached the doors of the basilica, night had already fallen. The Vatican had planned to close St. Peter’s by midnight, but as more people poured in, they left the doors open until 5:30am—a gesture that felt, somehow, very much in the spirit of Pope Francis himself. By Thursday morning, over 50,000 people had already viewed his body, according to the Vatican. More than 13,000 of them had come during those early morning hours, when the basilica should have been closed. Inside, Pope Francis lay in a simple wooden coffin, dressed in white vestments, a rosary nestled in his hands. The red lining of the casket reminded me of the passion with which he served, and three Swiss Guards stood silently on either side, keeping vigil with the entire world. I stood before him, overwhelmed. I had expected tears. Instead, I felt peace. I thought of how he washed the feet of prisoners, embraced the disabled, welcomed LGBTQ+ individuals, defended the poor, and reminded us that love is greater than judgment. In that quiet moment, I prayed his legacy of mercy would live on. On Thursday morning, I returned again. This time, the crowd was even larger, but things moved faster. The Vatican had organized the lines more efficiently. I arrived at 8am and was inside within two hours. We were asked not to take photos or videos, but strangely, no one stopped me when I recorded a short clip. Others were warned, but I felt, in my heart, that I had received a quiet blessing—like Pope Francis had given me permission. As I write this, the wake continues. The basilica reopened at 7am on Thursday and will remain open until midnight. On Friday, public viewing will continue from 7am to 7pm. On Saturday morning, a funeral mass will be held in St. Peter’s Square, followed by his burial at the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome’s Esquilino neighborhood—a final resting place outside the Vatican, close to his favorite icon of the Virgin Mary. It’s surreal to think that just days ago, he stood on the balcony above St. Peter’s Square, giving his final Easter Sunday blessing. Now, that same square is filled with mourners, the sound of bells gently echoing through the air as choirs chant psalms and prayers in Latin. “Pray for us,” they sing. And we do. Tomorrow, I will travel to San Giovanni Rotondo to visit the shrine of Padre Pio before flying home to San Diego on Saturday. But I carry these memories with me—the stillness of the basilica, the warmth of the people, the spiritual weight of saying goodbye to a man who reminded us that faith is not about walls but open arms. And now, as the Church prepares for what comes next, the papacy enters a period called sede vacante—the time between the death of a pope and the election of his successor. The College of Cardinals, made up of 252 members, will soon gather in the Sistine Chapel for a secretive conclave. Of them, 138 cardinals are eligible to vote. Up to four rounds of voting per day will take place, and a new pope must receive a two-thirds majority. We don’t know who that will be yet. The date of the conclave has not been announced, but Church norms say it likely won’t begin before May 5. Black smoke will signal an inconclusive vote; white smoke, a new pontiff. And the world will watch, waiting for the next shepherd of 1.3 billion Catholics. Whoever he is, I hope he walks the path Pope Francis paved—with compassion, courage, and an unshakable belief in love without conditions. RY/Expat Media
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