On Feb. 24, about 10 days into his hospitalization, there were unconfirmed reports, now apparently credible in retrospect, that Pope Francis and his doctors were fighting for his life — indeed, that his condition was so dire that the 88-year-old Pontiff might not last another “72 hours.”

That was not God’s plan.

Against all odds, the Holy Father, though gravely ill, survived the crisis. Nearly a month later, on March 23, appearing frail but resolute, he was discharged from the hospital and returned to his apartment at Casa Santa Marta. The fervent hope at the time was that, following several months of sustained rest and rehabilitative treatment, he might resume a more normal schedule of public events.

That wasn’t God’s plan either. Nor, evidently, was it Francis’.

When Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI died on Dec. 31, 2022, at age 95, the Register took note of what a “happy” and holy death he’d had: He had ample time to prepare himself spiritually; he was at home, in the company of his closest friends; millions of people around the world were storming heaven with prayers on his behalf, and Pope Francis himself visited with him and imparted his blessing.

In a similar vein, Pope Francis’ final days can be viewed as a kind of “holy week.” How he spent the extra time Our Lord granted him (a span that included the Church’s observance of Holy Week) speaks volumes about Francis’ character, faith and priorities.

Many assumed that the Pope, who was still battling a serious respiratory infection, would remain sequestered for several weeks, at least. Yet there was to be a series of surprise appearances in store, beginning with his participation in the Jubilee of the Sick and Health Care Workers on April 6. His appearance and brief words of greeting there offered a potent symbol of solidarity with those who are suffering, as he clearly was. 

Three days later, the Holy Father visited privately with King Charles III and Queen Camilla of England, and the following day, apparently on a whim, he asked to be taken in his wheelchair to St. Peter’s Basilica, where pilgrims were shocked to see him smiling and waving hello, clad in his street clothes. The Pope wanted to view the Chair of St. Peter, a symbol of the episcopal authority of history’s first pope, according to Vatican News. He also spent time in prayer at the tomb of St. Pius X, known as the “Pope of the Eucharist.”

On Spy Wednesday, April 16, the Pope visited with dozens of doctors, nurses and staff who had cared for him at Rome’s Gemelli Hospital. “Thank you, thank you, for everything you have done,” he told them. The following day, Holy Thursday, he visited with inmates at a Roman prison.

Looking back now, what we were witnessing were the corporal and spiritual works of mercy in action. Despite his illness, which obviously made it difficult for him to breathe — an especially acute form of suffering, as those who have experienced it can attest — Pope Francis took time to visit the sick and imprisoned, greet the stranger and pray for the needs of the Church.

Had he done none of those things, sick as he was, no one would have faulted him for it. But Pope Francis was intent on pouring himself out, until the very end.

Appropriately, the Holy Father’s final public acts came on Easter Sunday. First, he made time to visit briefly with U.S. Vice President JD Vance, with whom he had publicly clashed earlier this year over a point of Catholic teaching, as it applies to migrants. Later, Francis warmly greeted thousands of appreciative pilgrims gathered in St. Peter’s Square. His message and blessing urbi et orbi (to the city and the world), which was read for him during his surprise appearance, encapsulated the recurring themes of his 12-year-long pontificate: a call to make peace, to show love and mercy toward the poor, the hungry and migrants seeking a better life — above all, to bear witness in our everyday lives that Christ is risen.

“Christ is risen! These words capture the whole meaning of our existence, for we were not made for death but for life,” he reminded us.

Amen, and alleluia! And thank you, Pope Francis, for your poignant demonstration, in the final days and hours of your life, of the essential elements of our faith.