In Memory of Jorge Mario Bergoglio/Pope Francis

It was quiet at the gate, and the soul appreciated that; slightly disoriented, it looked around. "We have you all checked in," Peter said in a low voice, "and we're doing some crowd control inside." "I want to say that I'm nothing special," the soul whispered, "but each of us does something for the world (hopefully a good thing)." "We did issue one VIP pass for someone to meet you up front," Peter continued, and gestured to the shadow of a person loitering among the roses expectantly. Misunderstanding, the soul tried to steady itself to kneel, but the shadow stepped eagerly into the light. "JORGE!" she said, tears in her eyes, dropping to where he was struggling to get to the ground and then spring back up. "MAMA!" the soul cried out in disbelief. "PAPA!" she said next, drying the soul's tears as she always had, and they laughed and laughed, holding hands on the way in.