Buenos Aires, Argentina – Before the sun rose over Buenos Aires, grief had already cast its long shadow across Argentina: Pope Francis was dead. In the stillness of those early morning hours, hundreds of mourners gathered at the Basilica of San José de Flores, to offer tributes, prayer, and silence to the man who had once walked its aisles as a young seminarian named Jorge Mario Bergoglio.

For Argentines, Pope Francis was not just a religious figure. He was one of their own, a son of Buenos Aires who transcended the Vatican’s walls and brought Argentine humility to the heart of global Catholicism. 

"He was beloved all over the world for his empathy — for the poor, for those truly in need of the Church,” said Camila, 30, speaking to TRT World, visibly touched as she approached the basilica. 

“I feel he still had so much more to give — to Argentina and to the world, added her mother, Norma. “His humility made him so admired and loved. We will always remember him.”

They joined a crowd that had grown throughout the morning, entering the church for a special Mass in his honour led by Archbishop Jorge García Cuerva.

In Flores, he was Jorge

The neighbourhood of Flores, where Francis was born 88 years ago, has become the epicentre of public mourning — and quiet remembrance.

Outside the basilica, the sidewalk overflowed with flickering candles, strings of rosaries, and faded photographs — a makeshift shrine to a man who once travelled by subway to pray here every Sunday.

It was across from this very station that a 17-year-old Bergoglio first sensed a higher calling. Neighbours remembered him not as a pope to 1.4 billion Catholics, but as a familiar, kind presence. 

“In the 1980s, he always came around the neighbourhood, stopped by my shop,” said Sebastián, 71. “Even after he became bishop, nothing changed. He always ended conversations with, ‘Pray for me.’ Just like he did as Pope. He was the ideal pope: humble, caring, never seeking attention.”

Now, near the plaza where he once played football and bought his daily newspaper, hundreds gather to say goodbye. For many, the sorrow is overwhelming.

“You can’t put it into words,” said Jorge, his voice trembling. “A great man is leaving us — a man who stood up for the humble and helped renew the Catholic Church.”

Beyond the Church

Though millions remember him for his role as the spiritual leader of the Catholic world, Francis’s reach went far beyond religious institutions. In Argentina, where politics and the Church often intertwine, many still saw him as a symbol of moral clarity in uncertain times.

“I don't get too involved with the Church, because it is also political. Other powers influence everything related to the Vatican. I take distance from that. Today I come to the house of God, I give thanks and pray for him,” reflects Sebastián.

Younger generations echoed similar feelings — a respectful distance from religious dogma, but a deep emotional connection to the man.

Tomás, a young man also approaching the basilica's doors, agrees: “I don't feel identified with the Vatican, but that doesn't mean I don't mourn the Pope's death. He is a source of pride for us, and in fact, I came here to remember him.” 

The homecoming that never was

In early 2013, Cardinal Bergoglio left Buenos Aires to attend the papal conclave following Pope Benedict XVI’s resignation. Elected pope in a historic moment, Francis never returned to his homeland — a decision believed by experts was motivated by his desire to avoid deepening political divisions in Argentina.

“We always hoped he would come back,” said Camila. “Some say it was politics that kept him away, but he also had many responsibilities. Still, he did so much in those 12 years. His words reached countless people.”

Sebastián echoed her thoughts.”he didn’t need to return. The people’s love was always with him.”

As Argentines gather in the streets and churches of their capital, they grieve not just a pope, but the local boy who rose to global heights and never forgot where he came from.

In death, as in life, Pope Francis remains Argentina’s most extraordinary ordinary man.