I was there!

It was a sad day when His Holiness John Paul II, the holy man who changed the world, died on the April 2, 2005.

Breaking news that the Sistine chimney had puffed white at the election of Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger as Pope Benedict XVI as the 264th successor of Peter, kindled my inner wish to be at the Vatican for the inaugural Mass on Sunday 24 at 10 a.m.

At 6 p.m. on Friday I was flying to Rome. I was travelling very light, except for a tightly rolled up sleeping bag which my wife devoutly insisted I should take with me in case I did not manage to find lodging. But by 45 minutes after touch-down I had checked in to a small central hotel. The nightmare of having to squeeze into the sleeping bag and spend the night rolling on the paved piazza in front of St Peter's was gone for ever!

The Roman sky was star-studded, calm and serene. After a short, slow walk, I visited the bookshop at Stazione Termini. It was full of Pope John Paul although there was a corner reserved for Joseph Ratzinger's writings. But back in the hotel I leafed through the biography of Karol Wojtyla I had just bought, living again the memories of the three short intensive meetings my wife and I had with the great Pope John Paul.

On Saturday morning, I walked to St Peter's Square and in 30 minutes I was inside the basilica. Here I joined the long queue to the Grotto beneath the Basilica where Pope John Paul II had been laid to rest. The wait was long but worth it! I wound my way along the bent corridor till I could see the side alcove where the tomb was laid just 15 days before. As the white marble, resting a few centimetres above the ground, bearing the name of Pope John Paul II, came into view, tears flowed freely from my eyes, and I could not stop crying silently. One Sanpietrino took me by the elbow and led me to a prie dieu right in front of the tomb where I knelt and prayed to this Holy Man for all my dear ones.

Coming out of the Grotto, I went again into the basilica, straight to the Chapel of Confessions where I met Fr Albert Sammut, OFM Conv., a Maltese penitenziero at the Vatican. I had last seen him on TV when the body of John Paul II was transferred from the Sala Clementina to St Peter's Basilica. With a warm handshake we saluted each other, promising to carry each other's regards to the people we knew.

I spent what remained of the day visiting Rome's basilicas and, and being a Mosta man, the Pantheon.

It was a lovely Sunday morning. In St Peter's Square we were greeted with bottles of drinking water, and slowly but consistently, I walked on until I was near the obelisk. There was a festive atmosphere accentuated by bursts of melodious clapping which accompanied various hymns that different groups were singing.

The sight on the big screen of the Processional Cross being carried along the aisle inside the basilica sent ripples of devotional enthusiasm across the crowd outside who orchestrated a long applause, culminating in its highest pitch as the mitred new Pope appeared, parting his short-cut blessing to all. His face was serene, his smile beamed across the technological waves which carried it around the world. Pope Benedict XVI was sinking deeply into our hearts. His Holiness' particular and composed voice intoned the sign of the cross and His Pontificate was initiated.

During his first homily to the world, his voice rang of concern, care and initiative. It sounded holy, authoritative and paternal. His wisp of cotton-white hair radiated sacred vanity. His eyes were inquisitive but kind. He gesticulated slowly with his hands almost hinting at his humble desire to embrace all humanity. He looked firm, reserved but determined.

The Eucharistic prayer was another strong moment of communal faith. The silence emanating from the devout crowd mingled perfectly with the distinctly pronounced syllables of the Consecration of the blessed Host and Wine.

When Mass ended, His Holiness boarded the popemobile, waving and imparting his abridged blessing. As he entered beneath the Arch of the Bells, the crowd began to walk away, and so did I. This was the end of the beginning. The era of Pope Benedict XVI had just begun.

The flight home on Sunday evening was on time. I found my loved ones waiting at arrivals. Pope Benedict XVI's inauguration will remain a sweet and edifying memory I will cherish all my life.