By dying today, Pope Francis might as well be saying what he first said after the white smoke in St. Peter’s Square all over again.

Many things will be said about the death of Pope Francis today. Many of them will have to do with politics and controversy. That he met with the vice president of the United States the last day of his life certainly won’t be missed in the coverage.

But this pope of the peripheries, as he will forever be known — from South America, so often associating himself with those who would otherwise be most forgotten — was first and foremost a spiritual father.

The most important thing he ever said on the world stage was the first thing he said: Pray. He asked us to pray for him, and I often doubted we took that to heart, as so many of us had debates about him.

(I’ll never forget how he had an hours-long prayer vigil for peace in Syria and the surrounding region, just before all hell seemed to break loose there — the ISIS genocide. On some level, was it an indictment that we weren’t really, truly praying as we ought?)

If Pope Francis is going to be remembered for anything beyond our ideological takeaways, it should be for this:

*** His emphasis on mercy. That’s because most of us have something we think we can’t be forgiven for. Maybe it’s because we do it repetitively. Maybe it’s because we can’t even admit we’ve done it. Ask God for forgiveness. He never tires of forgiving us. And he wants us to be free. Now. Always. Eternally.

*** The Beatitudes are our identity card as Christians. Our world would look different if we took the Sermon on the Mount seriously. Seriously, get serious about living them.

*** No life was made to be thrown away. From yes, the unborn, to the suffering addict, to the refugee, the prisoner, the elderly. . . What are we doing to ourselves when we let our culture double down on death for the sake of perceived convenience?

Saint John Paul II showed us how to die in his sickness toward the end of his life. Similarly, Pope Francis showed us how to live in the twilight of our days. Meeting with world leaders, an elderly nun on pilgrimage, and a child with his family on vacation. He prayed with the people, just one among the crowds, in his final days. It was striking that we saw him for the first time since his election in non-papal garb, in his wheelchair during these final days. He was our holy father, a world leader himself of historic significance. And, yet, as he himself told us in his first interview an pontiff: He’s also, perhaps most importantly, a sinner in need of a Savior. And he died as we celebrate the single greatest fact of the Christian faith: Jesus Christ is our Savior, who promises us eternity with our Creator. We were made for this. So that every moment of our lives would point toward this. With God’s grace, we begin again every day.

I heard the news this morning that Pope Francis had died, and somewhat insanely I felt shocked. We knew he was sick. We all knew that. We had been on papal death watch all those days he spent in the hospital. Frankly, I should have had my remembrance written long ago. But I couldn’t get myself to. Are you ever ready for a father to die?

And the more I thought about it this morning, it makes perfect sense that Pope Francis would die as we celebrate Easter, that we would hear the news, as Americans, as we woke up on Easter Monday: because every day of our lives are about living what we celebrate on Easter.

If Pope Francis had an opportunity for a last word for us today, I suspect it would be what he said first and most consistently: Pray. Pray for his eternal soul. Pray for the cardinals who will be tasked with electing the next pope. Pray for the next pope. Pray for the suffering. Pray for the persecuted. Pray for the most forgotten.

Pray.

Now.

Did we get that?

Pray. It’s what fuels pure love in our broken world. It’s what changes the world. Remember Good Friday, just this past Friday? It’s what Jesus did from the cross, as He died for love of us.

By dying today, Pope Francis might as well be saying what he first said after the white smoke in St. Peter’s Square all over again.