by Guisela Chiarella
Italy plunged into a profound moment of reflection on Tuesday as the government declared five days of national mourning following the death of Pope Francis, who passed away at the Vatican on Easter Monday, April 21, at the age of 88.
The mourning period, announced by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni after an emergency meeting of the Council of Ministers, will extend until Saturday, the day of the late pontiff’s funeral at St. Peter’s Basilica. Fabio Ciciliano, head of the Civil Protection Department, has been appointed commissioner for organizing the funeral, which is expected to draw world leaders and tens of thousands of faithful to Rome.
This unprecedented period of mourning for a sitting pope — the first to die in office since the early 20th century — brings a sweeping yet somber shift to the national rhythm. Italian flags will fly at half-mast, and schools across the country have been instructed to observe a minute of silence. Public officials must cancel their appointments and may only attend charity events during the mourning period.
Yet, unlike a national holiday, a day of mourning in Italy does not equate to a day off work. Offices, businesses, and schools will remain open unless they choose to close out of respect.
The decree has cast uncertainty over upcoming celebrations for Festa della Liberazione (Liberation Day), a major national holiday on April 25 commemorating Italy’s liberation from fascism during World War II. Officials have yet to clarify how the mourning period might affect public ceremonies or the fate of Italy’s Serie A football matches, several of which have already been postponed.
This is only the second time in recent history that Italy has declared national mourning for a pope. The previous occasion came in 2005, following the death of John Paul II. Since then, the government has used national mourning sparingly, most recently for the victims of the L’Aquila earthquake in 2009, the Morandi Bridge collapse in 2018, and the death of former Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi in 2023.
In the city of Trieste, where sea air and old-world cafés shape the daily pulse of life, reactions to the pope’s passing were deeply personal.
“It feels like we lost a grandfather,” said Maria, 62, standing outside Caffè San Marco. “He was a humble man. He never acted like a king, even though he wore white.”
Others, like Marco, a university student, were more contemplative. “Francis challenged a lot of people,” he said. “Not everyone liked what he had to say about capitalism or climate change. But he was brave. I think history will remember that.”
On the waterfront promenade, where residents often gather to stroll at sunset, there was a noticeable hush. “We lit a candle last night,” said Giovanna, a middle-aged shopkeeper. “It just felt right.”
As Italy prepares to say goodbye to a pope who both stirred and soothed, the country braces for a moment of collective mourning—one both steeped in tradition and marked by a distinctly modern sense of loss.
