No matter how inevitable or indeed no matter how unexpected, death has a powerful way of gripping the heart and bringing the mind into sharp focus of the person who has just died. Since hearing of the death of Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, who was for eight years our spiritual shepherd and father, I have been deeply moved and focused to reflect anew on his impact on my own small story, on that of my generation and on the wider Church.
I was born in Stratford, in East London, and the first stirrings of a vocation to the priesthood did not come until I was in my last two years at Trinity Catholic High School in Woodford Green. At the time, although it was slowly growing, my desire to be a priest was little more than a weak aspiration; it was something I thought about only occasionally. Even as the longing grew, the thought of becoming a priest was initially something I kept close to my chest.
