Until the end, the papacy of Pope Francis, who died on Monday, April 21, at the age of 88, had the brilliance of the extraordinary. "He left in beauty," murmured a cleric, apologizing for the frivolity of the image. But how else to describe this death that occurred the day after Easter, the most sacred holiday of the year for Christians, during which Francis had even taken a crowd bath in the popemobile, a final public gesture that, in hindsight, seemed like a farewell?

The pope was a bit more than just the head of the Roman Catholic Church – one of those leaders for whom the world has a passion, blending global stardom and the search for a moral compass. Francis knew this and he played on it: his image, that of a humble shepherd, was one of his main tools for addressing the world and a Church he had significantly shaken.

His voice was failing after severe respiratory issues that had led to a five-week hospitalization. No matter, he appeared as much as his strength allowed, disregarding the two months of convalescence recommended by his doctors and never attempting to hide his condition as an elderly sick man. On Sunday, after the Easter mass and before making his way through the crowd, he had weakly greeted the faithful from the balcony of Saint Peter's Basilica and simply wished a Happy Easter to his "dear brothers and sisters."

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