I was just about 6 years old when John Paul II came to visit Chicago in 1979. As a young boy who had just arrived in Chicago from Poland, I remember the tremendous jubilation among the many Poles in the crowd as his motorcade drew nearer.
My great-grandmother–“Babcha Eugenia,” as I called her–quickly hoisted me up in her arms so that I could see the pope’s motorcade pass by. And pass it did, in an uproar of cheers and vigorously waved flags of white and red.
Of course, as I became of age, the memory of that day ripened like a fine wine, its significance emblazoned on my soul forever. It seems that the 25 years that have passed since that day went by as quickly as that fleeting moment when I was in Babcha Eugenia’s arms. He was here, and now is gone.
As I, along with many of us, struggle to accept the loss of a truly incredible human being for whom forever on this Earth would not have been long enough, let us simply remember him in the way he would have likely wished, and that is by working to make this world a better place for all.
