Lolo Kiko’s Last Easter: A Farewell Wrapped in Hope

On a quiet Monday, during the Easter Octave when the Church still rang with the songs of Resurrection, the world bid farewell to Pope Francis whom we Filipinos call as “Lolo Kiko” a shepherd whose life was a living reflection of the Risen Christ’s tenderness.

It was no ordinary Monday. It was a day steeped in the joy of Easter, when Christians celebrate not endings, but beginnings; not death, but life. In passing during this sacred time, Pope Francis seemed to whisper one final message to the faithful he loved so much: “Death is not the end of everything, but the beginning of something”.Pope Francis even in his last hours thanked his nurse for bringing him back to the square wherein he met the joyous Easter people. These very same people mourned him across the globe and most especially in the Philippines, a nation that claimed him not just as Pope but as family. To Filipinos, he was Lolo Kiko, the gentle grandfather who laughed, wept, and prayed with them, whose heart beat with the same hopes and wounds as theirs.

His death in the Jubilee Year of Hope could not be more fitting. Throughout his papacy, Pope Francis made it his mission to lift the forgotten and restore dignity to the broken. He was not a pontiff perched in ivory towers but he is dubbed as ” the Pope of the peripheries,”a man who kissed the dirt with his knees, embraced the disfigured with open arms, and spoke the language of the poor, a man of mercy, simplicity, and joy.

When he visited the Philippines in 2015, he brought more than papal blessings; he carried the balm of healing to a nation reeling from storms and sorrows. Under the heavy rain in Tacloban, standing among typhoon survivors, he showed the world that leadership meant suffering with, not just speaking to. And in the glow of that muddy, tear-streaked encounter, the Filipino youth found an image of hope in the pope.

“You are the treasure of the Church,” he told the young people gathered at UST, urging them to weep for those who suffer and to allow their dreams to be fueled by compassion. In a country where dreams often collide with hardship, Lolo Kiko’s words became seeds of hope, growing silently in thousands of young hearts many of whom today serve in ministries, advocate for justice, and walk paths of faith shaped by his voice.

As the Church now journeys through the Jubilee Year proclaiming hope to a wounded world, Pope Francis leaves behind more than memory and but more so he leaves a mission. He reminds us that true Christianity is not triumphalism but tenderness, not comfort but courage, not glory but mercy.

His death on an Easter Monday is a symbol of his message in his bull of indiction to this Year’s Jubilee: SPES NON CONFUNDIT. “Hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5) and that the hope of Christ conquers all even death.

Today, Filipinos pray not just in grief but in gratitude. They remember a Pope who dared to smell like his sheep, who believed that young people could change the world, who held the Filipino soul close to his heart until his final breath.

As the bells toll and candles burn, one truth rises like the Easter sun: Lolo Kiko is not gone. He is with the Risen Christ and his hope lives on in us.

Salamat, Lolo Kiko. Thank you for being a bearer of mercy, compassion and hope. (Allyza Hope Tabigue)