Pope Francis had a quick wit and a love for laughter. Once, during a meeting on the papal plane, I dared to crack a risky joke. Instead of being offended, he burst into hearty laughter and playfully called me “Sei cattivo!” — “You’re naughty!” He often mentioned praying the famous words of St. Thomas More: “Lord, grant me a sense of humor.”

Francis approached his mission with seriousness but never fell into the trap of taking himself too seriously.

His sharp intuition and pastoral touch always stood out. No matter the situation, he had an uncanny ability to find the right words. During a family visit, my youngest child cried at the sight of him. Francis quipped, “They must think I’m a doctor about to give them medicine!”

He was a master at reading people. When gathering bishops, he’d invite them to form a circle and speak freely. It gave him crucial insight into group dynamics, shaping his leadership choices.

Accessibility was his style. His office door was famously open — yet bore a humorous sign: “No whining.”

Covering his papacy was never predictable. He gave more interviews than any other pope, had no media handlers, and his selection of cardinals was always a surprise — often revealed by frantic phone calls during Mass.

Yet, behind the charm was a shrewd strategist: firm, decisive, and determined to remain authentic. My lasting image of Francis is that of a profoundly human pope, full of joy and unpredictability — a legacy that will be hard to match.