Today in the Vatican, everyone wants to say goodbye to the man who spent his life reminding us that faith without works is dead. Pope Francis’ heart and actions were always with those who suffer — with the poor, the unjustly treated, and the forgotten.

Francis was always close to our sick. In 2016, he supported our pharmacy in Saoude, Togo, funding a full year’s supply of medicine for the ill. Hundreds of life stories were able to continue. People came for medicine and were stunned to learn that in a country forgotten by much of the world, the Pope himself had remembered them. When they held those boxes of medicine in their hands, they danced like children, clapping in rhythm and raising their eyes to the photo of the Pope — as if they could send him their thanks across thousands of kilometers.

There are places where being born means being born straight into a war zone. The maternity ward of our hospital in the Democratic Republic of Congo knows that reality all too well. That’s where an ultrasound machine from Pope Francis arrived — originally intended for a hospice in Rwanda. It’s a machine that has many times determined life or death. Along with it, 14 hospital beds were delivered — not just any beds, but a complete renovation of the ward. Patients could now recover in safe, stable conditions, no longer fearing wobbly frames and creaky springs.

In the Kabuga hospice in Rwanda, Pope Francis left another trace of his compassion: a mini blood analysis lab that makes it possible to save lives faster than ever. A simple but incredibly effective device — just a few minutes are enough for doctors to act without delay.

Pope Francis is gone, but he has left behind a world just a little better, a little more human. What remains in us is deep gratitude and the memory of a man who reminded us that love is not a word, but an action.

Pope Francis, thank you for everything.